


Nothing Burns Like the Cold.

by spectralarchers



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Ultimates, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Captain America - Freeform, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton is a BAMF, Clint Barton needs Glasses, F/M, Hawkeye - Freeform, Johan Schmidt - Freeform, Kalaalit, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, The Sirius Patrol, The Valkyrie - Freeform, Thule Air Base, greenland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 23:11:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 44,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12922239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectralarchers/pseuds/spectralarchers
Summary: Captain America and the Valkyrie were discovered in the vast, icy plains of North Eastern Greenland a year after the Hulk ripped Harlem apart and Thor left his mark on Puente Antiguo.But who discovered him, and why?





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on thorough historical and geo-political research on Greenland, Nothing Burns Like the Cold tries to investigate how Captain America’s crash in the Arctic influenced worldwide politics by pulling on Real Life problems and International Associations, by looking through the eyes of SHIELD agent Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye and his implication in the findings of the Valkyrie and Steve Rogers in the ice. 
> 
> NB: Whenever a real historical fact or real geographical location shows up, further reading links have been inserted in the footnote of the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! It's here! The story that's been months in the making, and I can't wait to hear/see what you think of it!  
> I decided to post the whole thing at once, that way you guys can climb deep into the rabbit hole and come out and scream at me when you're done. Or something like that.
> 
> Individual Chapter Warnings: None.

Winter has laid its icy, pristine coat over the entire landscape. Steve had never given thought about how Clint managed the farm life out here, in Waverly, Iowa, in the winter time. It had never popped up, really - Steve had grown up in Brooklyn, and there had always been a snowplow to get rid of the excess snow in winter, and there was always some asphalt visible under the greyed and yellowed snow that had been pushed to the side.

Of course, Steve has also seen beautiful, barren and deadly icy landscapes - he remembers the Alps clearly, and he knows that he won’t ever be able to go back there. He remembers the view from the cockpit of the Valkyrie, as it descended down into the North Pole, or close thereabout anyway. It hadn’t felt as beautiful as it did now, though, looking through the dashboard of the rental vehicle he and Wanda had gotten after landing in Des Moines. They’d done the half hour drive on the 218 highway, which had been cleared at least once that day already.

The wonderland around him freezes him to his bones, but in a good way. Wanda doesn’t seem fazed, as she’s sitting next to him, thumbing through the book she brought along for the trip. The road up to the farm hasn’t been cleared yet, so they can’t make it up there without some help. Clint had jokingly told them to bring snowshoes, but Steve had dismissed it - surely there was some way to get around without having to use snowshoes?

They both hear the roar of an engine before they see it, and both are out of the car in a couple of seconds. The loud, thundering, repetitive noise of the snowmobile dies out as the hat-wearing rider turns off the engine, and steps off of it.

“I told you to bring your winter gear,” Clint says, as he pulls down his goggles, leaving them to hang around his neck as he hits the snow, jumping down from the massive machine he’s just arrived on. He walks up to Wanda and hugs her warmly, and they greet each other with kind words. Steve extends his hand when Clint comes closer, but Clint goes in for a hug instead, ignoring the polite offer.

“It’s good to see you, Barton,” Steve greets with a nod, making Clint smile.

“Likewise, Cap, likewise. How was the New Year’s party at Stark’s fancy tower?”

“Oh, you know Stark, he likes pompous displays of wealth,” Steve answers, jokingly. “No, it was fun. Missed you there,” he adds, and Clint exchanges a glance with Wanda.

“Well, I told you, I’m retired. Sokovia burnt me out, and I promised Laura I wouldn’t be doing any more of this risk-taking, neck-breaking, super-heroing business,” he says, as he points to the trail the snowmobile has left in the snow. “Now, I don’t know about you guys, but that car isn’t going to make it very far. Steve, how about you wait here while I drive Wanda up to the farm, then I’ll be right back to get you and your stuff?” Clint suggests as he walks over to the car, pulling open the backseat door.

“How much did you bring? Oh, neat!” he exclaims, as he notices the two only duffel bags. “I can carry Wanda and one duffel, which one is-” he trails off, as Wanda comes over and pulls the larger one of them out from the seat.

“You ever been on one of these before?” Clint asks Wanda, as Steve goes with them towards the snowmobile. It’s a big one - Steve has seen them before in movies, but he’s never had the pleasure. He’s sure that Clint knows how to maneuver it though, but it’s big. Probably bigger than the Harley Steve’s got back home.

Wanda replies as Clint attaches her duffel on the back end of the snowmobile, “I have not had the pleasure,” she states, an eyebrow raised.

Clint laughs. “Well, I’m sure you’ll have fun, as long as you hold on tight.” He pulls his goggles back up on his face and looks over at Steve as he mounts the Polaris machine, “Be right back to get you,” he says, while Wanda climbs up behind him. She puts her arms around Clint’s waist and with a flick of the key in the ignition, the snowmobile is up and running again. Both of them are off in a couple of seconds, and Steve is pretty sure he heard Wanda scream when Clint accelerated right as they got on top of the snowy blanket.

Walking back up to the car, Steve rests against the front of it, his arms crossed. Sure, he can feel the cold, but it doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. Supersoldier and all, high metabolism, keeps him warm. He’s wearing a merino wool Under Armor shirt under the coat, though, and he suspects that Stark knew at least a little bit about what he was doing when he equipped them with it.

He looks up around the landscape. The trees extend up towards the sky, and he spots at least three different nests up in the bare chestnut’s crown. Judging by the size of them, he’d go with some kind of hawk, and the idea makes his chuckle. Of course it would be fitting for Hawkeye to have nesting hawks on his property in the middle of nowhere, Iowa.

Everything grows quiet for a couple of seconds, as he just listens. The sun hits the snow at an angle that makes it shine as though it was made of a million, tiny, little crystals, and it lights everything up in a specific light he’s rarely seen before. It’s beautiful.

The roar of the engine breaks him out of his admiration.  As Clint covers the last bit of distance between them Steve gets behind the driver’s seat of the car, turns it on, and adjusts the car on the patch of open gravel road, so as to not block traffic on the main road. Clint stops more or less in the same spot as earlier, and pulls down the goggles again, watching Steve with that glint of amusement in his eyes.

“It’s beautiful, innit?” he asks, and Steve nods, pulling out the duffel off the back seat, as he shuts the door with a kick of the back of his foot.

“Very! Can’t believe snow could be this pretty,” he jokes, before continuing, “Back in New York, we’ve barely ever got this pristine, untouched snowfall, too many cars, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Any big city hates the snow, but out here? It makes everything quiet down, and brings out the cosiness of winter,” Clint answers, as Steve hands him the duffel. Inspecting it with a glance, Clint looks back up at Steve. “No shield?”

“No, didn’t bring it with me. Didn’t think I’d need to be Captain America out here,” Steve answers, as he makes a circular motion with his hand, pointing at the quiet nature around them.

Clint laughs. “Fair point.” He throws the duffel in front of him again and climbs back up onto the machine, and pulls the goggles off his neck and hands them to Steve. “Forgot to take a second pair with me, and going by Wanda, you’ll need them,” he says, as amused as a father of three could be. Not sure if he’s being the butt of a joke or not, Steve takes them and zips up the coat all the way so that it’s biting into his chin, and places the goggles over his eyes.

“What’re you-”

“Oh, I got these,” Clint interrupts, as he pulls out his favorite Oakley sunglasses from a pocket inside his own jacket. Placing them on his nose, he smiles at Steve over his shoulder. “Now, hang on tight. You can hold on to the handles there,” he points at the two mounted handles behind the second seat, “or you can hold on to me, I won’t tell if you do.”

Steve leans slightly back and tests his body weight against the handles and decides he’d rather hold on there. Not that he doesn’t want to hold on to Clint, he’s just not sure if he’ll break Clint if he clutches too hard.

However, as soon as the snowmobile spurts forward, Steve regrets his decision almost the exact second Clint decides to go for the handles, because his feet leave the foot rests and he almost tumbles off the seat. He bends forward to counteract the Gs that he’s currently being put through, and puts one armaround Clint’s waist, keeping the other on the handle.

Steve has no idea how fast they’re going, but they make it to the farm pretty soon after. The landscape had zipped right past them, and he finds not one, not two, but three snowmen near the entrance, as well as what he’s pretty sure is supposed to be a fortress built out of snow. He only lets go of Clint’s waist as they slow down.

When they come to a stop, Clint shuts off the engine and unfastens the duffel, while Steve steps off. His boots creak against the snow, and he looks around, taking off the goggles as he does so. The area looks entirely different than what it did when he came here last, but he likes it nonetheless. Clint walks up to him, carrying the duffel and stands next to him, quietly for a couple of seconds, letting Steve take it all in.

“Beautiful, right?” he finally asks, and when Steve looks over, he nods, and follows behind Clint as they get up to the front door.

Winter isn’t his favorite season - for a great number of reasons - but this? This he could get used to.

They both bang their boots against the wooden porch when they reach the top stair, and Steve follows Clint’s lead as they take off the snowy and wet outside wear and put it to hang in the entrance hall. The thrilling sound of children playing and talking chases out the cold feeling Steve felt when he thought of another cold, an icy deadly cold - the cold that put him to sleep for 70 years.

He’d rather not remember it.

* * *

 Clint is up first thing next morning. They’d spent the evening talking about how things were, how Wanda was doing in training, and they’d quietly gone to bed, one by one. Laura first, then Wanda, then Clint had said that he needed to get some rest before the kids woke him up next thing in the morning. He needed to get some work done in the morning, by one of the southernmost fences. Steve had offered his help, as he'd be up early too anyway. A soldier's instincts and all of that.

The only condition? That Clint did not drive as fast as he’d done the day before, which, as it turns out, was close to 50 miles an hour. Which was, according to Steve, absolutely ridiculous, but according to Clint, perfectly acceptable.

To Steve’s great joy, however, Clint had said that if they both went to the barn in the morning, they’d probably figure something out. And that, they had, when Clint had turned lights on to reveal not one, not two, but three snowmobiles inside the barn.

“Why three?” Steve asks, as Clint slowly drives one of the other two snowmobiles out of the barn. The headlights are on, and the crack of dawn is not far off - it’s still dark out. Winter months, with short days and long nights - they’re not the same when he’s in New York.

Clint hops off, leaving the key in the ignition, before throwing another pair of goggles at Steve. “Because, if one breaks down, how do we get it repaired? And if the second one breaks too, how do we deal with that?” is his answer, and Steve nods, before Clint adds that, “Besides, Laura wanted her own for when I’m out working somewhere else, and the third one,” he nods at the smallest one in the back, “That’s for Coop, when he wants to help out or go on a field trip around the area with me.”

“You sure he’s old enough for that?” Steve asks, and Clint just raises his hand and middle finger at him.

He laughs, though. “He’s my teenage kid, yeah, he’s old enough,” he says, and Steve feels a certain sense of pride in Clint’s words. Cooper’s turned 14 last time, and he’s grown about a whole foot too. He’ll be taller than his dad if he keeps on like this, but he’s a good kid. Bright and smart.

Clint walks over to his own snowmobile, and gets on, before nodding at Steve. “You know how to drive one of these things?” he asks, suddenly, frowning.

“Not that different from a bike,” Steve answers gleefully, as he sits down behind the steering wheel and maneuvers the machine around so as to be on Clint’s right hand side. “I think I can manage,” he then says, as Clint laughs out loud.

“Alright, Cap, we’ve got a little way to go, don’t get surprised if some white tails jump out from nowhere, they won’t go out in front of you,” Clint says, before heading off. Steve takes a half a second to process what Clint’s just told him, and as soon as he realizes Clint had meant actual, live deer, he catches up with the archer.

They’re doing a steady 40 miles an hour (Steve could go faster, but he’s sure Clint is keeping the speed down for a reason, that being the white tailed deer that might jump out in front of them at any given moment), and when Clint lifts his arm to indicate that they’re soon there, Steve slows down. It’s just like driving a bike, except the surface of the snow is much less level and he has to be careful so as to not skid when they turn.

Clint turns his snowmobile around so that the headlights point at as specific spot on the barbed wire fence, and Steve reciprocates by doing the same. “What are we looking at?” Steve asks, as they both make it off the machines and walk up there. Clint’s carrying some wire around his shoulder, he probably packed them onto the snowmobile while Steve was too busy looking around inside the barn.

“Snow was too heavy when it fell couple of weeks ago, so it broke,” Clint gives as an explanation, pointing at the area where the wire had snapped. “We got about two feet and half of snowfall during the night, and the wire just snapped because it was below freezing.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Steve says, as the two men approach the edges of the wires. Clint throws the roll onto the snow, and bends forward, pulling out some tools from the belt he’s apparently also wearing under the coat. “The cold- it just, it freezes everything, right? Just, right into the bone, when it gets cold enough,” he continues, and Clint looks over his shoulder at Steve.

“Can you-” Clint asks, motioning to the area where the wire had snapped with his finger and Steve gets the point and takes the little flashlight Clint just handed him and flicks it on. A ray of light bursts out and Clint gets to working on repairing the fence immediately. “You were saying?”

“Just- I was just saying that it was cold like this, in the Alps, you know? That day Bucky- the day Bucky fell,” Steve continues. “But it was colder when the Valkyrie went down. Don’t know how much SHIELD told you, but I had to put her down near the North Pole, and it was cold as hell there, it was beginning of March, and it apparently gets so cold up there… I mean, I remember the crash and just everything around me freezing, right up until my entire body just gave into the cold too.”

Clint doesn’t say anything, and Steve appreciates it. It gives him the opportunity to vent a little, and for some reason, to be able to tell Clint this, now and here, seems appropriate. So he goes on. “I was unconscious after a while because my body just went into overdrive, you know? But it was so damn cold. I’d never been that cold before, all of the heat in my body just seeping out of it like a balloon that’s been pierced or something,” he mutters to himself, readjusting the flashlight when Clint motions to him with his thumb again.

Clint’s tied a knot with one of the wires around one of the barbs, and looks back up at Steve. “Tell me about it,” before going back at it, snapping the wire with the wire tongs, and moving to the other side of the hole in the fence to mend it on the other side.

Steve follows him with the flashlight. “You ever been so cold it feels like your bones are going to break because they’ve frozen?”

Clint chuckles. “Yeah, I fell through a thin sheet of ice when I was out looking for you in the Arctic,” Clint says through his teeth, as he’s biting down on one of the metal edges he needs to use to repair the fence.

“Wait, you were-”

“Me and my partner were the ones who found you, up there,” Clint says again, pulling out the wire from his mouth and looking at Steve.

“Your partner?”

“Yeah, SHIELD sent me to train and patrol with the Danish Sirius Patrol after my brother Barney came across some intel that the Russians were closing in on the geographic North Pole and all of that… Don’t know if you read up on it, but in 2007 the Russians actually went to the geographic North Pole in a sub and planted a flag up there to claim sovereignty over it, so there was a lot of talk about them finding the Valkyrie and using it to extract HYDRA tech, to further their weapons and military industry,” Clint states, as he works on the wire.

Steve is stunned for a couple of seconds. “Wait- what?”

Clint looks up, surprised at Steve’s reaction. “Yeah, man, the whole world’s been trying to find the Valkyrie ever since you disappeared,” he states, flatly, twisting the tongs around in order to lock the wires together and repair the fence properly. “I know Howard Stark was one of the first, he found the Tesseract and stuff, but there’s been expeditions up there to try and find the crash site,” he continues. “The Arctic was a key point in international politics during the Cold War, and still is, though it’s for resource reasons rather than weaponizing ancient World War Two tech.”

“You said you- you patrolled with the-”

“The Sirius Patrol, yeah. It’s an elite naval unit that serves under the Danish military, since Greenland is a constituent of the Kingdom of Denmark,” Clint explains as he stands up straight and looks down at his work with a smile. “They patrol the biggest national park in the world, the Northeast Greenland National Park, every single year to uphold Danish sovereignty over the territory since there are no inhabitants there, and one of their secret agendas has actually been to look for the Valkyrie.” He pauses and smiles at Steve. “You didn’t seriously think that nobody in the whole world wouldn't be looking for you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link to the [Sirius Dog Sled Patrol.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sirius_Dog_Sled_Patrol)
> 
> So, how did you like it? Did you enjoy it?  
> Let me know in a comment, and then quick, go read the next chapter! You guys are in for a ride ♥


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys ready for more? Because I sure am! 
> 
> *
> 
> Individual Chapter Warnings:  
> \- Second scene takes place during a bullfight, but there are no graphic descriptions of what happens during it. Some technical discussions of the proceedings/traditions of a bullfight occur, though.

“You’re not very good at this,” Cooper says, with that frown that’s oh so much like Clint that Steve almost wants to cry. Well, he doesn’t, but he can’t help but feel a pang of pride in this kid he’s known for barely a year.

“Well, I haven’t done this since Brooklyn in the 1930s, to be honest,” he defends as he lets go of the log that’s in his hand, and hands the matches and newspaper to Cooper.

Cooper snorts, bends forward, putting his knee to the floor from the stool he’s sitting on in order to reach the little box on top of the fireplace. “Well, newspaper’s old news here,” he answers in a tone that Steve recognizes as Laura’s matter-of-fact intonation. “We use these briquettes,” he says, as he opens a black circular box with a red lid and pulls out two small square shaped items and hands them to Steve.

“Dad says the sawdust briquettes are better than the plastic ones, because these are better for the environment, or something,” Cooper states, as he leaves the stool to sit on his knees in front of the miserable fire Steve had tried to build. “Here, you have to-” he moves the logs around a little bit, and slides over to the side where a wooden braided basket sits with smaller wooden parts that Steve suspects are leftovers from some of Clint’s work timber, and lies them under the logs he’s placed in a triangle, “- make sure that there’s air for the fire to breathe, right?”

He shifts things around a little bit, and places the briquettes Steve hands him back in the front and the back, and pulling a page of newspaper out of the pile, he lights the back one up first, then the front one. “The briquettes are good, because they make it hot really fast, and then the flames sort of pick up better,” he says, looking over his shoulder, before scrawling back to the stool.

Steve smiles. “I wish we’d had those in Brooklyn, would’ve made things a lot easier.”

Cooper smiles back at him. “Dad says that sometimes, when him and mom were in the circus, he’d keep a glass of water near the bed if he woke up and was thirsty, and sometimes, in the winter, when he’d wake up in the morning, the water would be frozen solid.” The kid looks over his shoulder, towards the kitchen where Clint and Laura are preparing dinner. Wanda’s sitting in the couch behind them, reading a book out loud for Nathaniel who’s entered the inquisitive ‘what’s this’ and ‘why’ age about everything.

“Your dad has seen a lot, hasn’t he?” Steve then asks, and Cooper nods.

“Yeah, he’s been all around the world. I wish we could talk about it at school, because sometimes people just feel so… small. Dad’s seen more countries than all of my teachers put together, but I’m not allowed to tell anyone about it. They can’t know Dad’s an Avenger,” Cooper scowls. “But I know Natasha has seen more than he has,” he continues, “And she knows the cold too. Says the winter cold here is nothing compared to the cold she knew in Russia, before she came to SHIELD.”

Steve laughs, before looking into the fire that’s beginning to spread to some of the bigger logs. “Well, the cold depends, really.”

“Yeah, I know. When the humidity is close to zero, it doesn’t feel as cold as if there’s more water in the air, or something,” Cooper replies, as he looks down at his hands. “Dad says that minus 40 feels warmer than minus 20 if the air is clear. I wrote a project about it, for school, last year. Temperatures and global warming in Greenland, and stuff.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, more than half the ice around the island has melted because of global warming, and that’s making a lot of people nervous because if the seas up there open up, it’ll make trade easier, but they also think there’s oil hidden underground. Which is why the Russians are drilling, and Greenpeace are urging Greenlanders to be careful about who they allow to drill. They’re trying really hard to avoid a new catastrophe like the Exxon Valdez spill that happened in 1989, because 90% of Greenland’s export is from the fishing industry,” Cooper continues.

“How come you know all this?” Steve asks, readjusting himself on the little IKEA chair he’s been sitting on for the last half hour. He looks over his shoulder to see that Wanda is paying attention too, even though she’s also reading the _Penny and Dime_ book Nathaniel is currently engrossed in.

Cooper just shrugs. “Dad was away for a year in Greenland, and I thought that if I did enough research about it, it wouldn’t feel like he was so far away, I guess.” He pauses, before looking over at Steve. “He was looking for you, you know? Uncle Barns said that he went looking for you and your ship, so that the Chinese and Russians didn’t find the Valkyrie before we did.”

“Wasn’t he in New Mexico when that happened?” Steve asks, frowning.

“Nah, that happened like a year before they found you. I think he left about a month after Thor arrived to Earth, or something- DAD?” Cooper calls out, and Clint pops out from the kitchen a couple of seconds after. “How long were you with Elias?”

“Be right there,” Clint says, as he goes back into the kitchen, and comes back out with a tea towel in his hands he’s drying his hands with. “Uh, we were away for 12 months? He was gone for a total of two years, but I only did one tour up there, and that was a long time,” he answers, looking at Steve.

“Why were you in the Arctic?” Wanda asks, then, and Steve turns around to answer her.

“He was looking for me,” he replies and Wanda looks over at Clint.

“I thought Russian oil tankers found the Valkyrie?”

“Yeah, that’s the official story the newspapers went with, but it was actually a joint mission between SHIELD and the Danish army that found him,” Clint says, as he sits down on the edge of the sofa. Nathaniel looks up from the book they’ve been reading in inquisitively and frowns.

“Daddy!” he exclaims, and Clint bends over to pick him up, lifting him under the shoulders and sitting him on his thigh.

“There had been a lot of speculation about where you put down the Valkyrie, and a lot of research has been done in the area to locate you, but it was actually some members of the Sirius Patrol that located some wreckage during their winter tour, while they were going back from patrolling the area around Cape Morris Jesup, on their way back to Station Nord,” Clint explains as he bounces Nathaniel up and down on his leg.

“You telling about how you got sent away for 16 months without any warning?” Laura says from the kitchen door, where she’s leaning against the doorframe with a spatula in her hand. “Because he did that, he left for 16 months and if I had known he was going to be gone that long without seeing him, I’d have said goodbye a little more passionately than what I did,” she comments and Cooper makes a face.

“Mom, that’s- ew, I can’t believe you said that.”

“So how come you left so abruptly, then?” Steve asks, and Clint sighs.

“Well, that’s because of my brother Barney,” he replies and shakes his head. “That ass just knows how to time things perfectly, right?”

* * *

**_FLASHBACK, NÎMES, FRANCE  
SEPTEMBER 18th 2010_ **

He has to admit that even though he hates the reason for being here, he likes the smell in the rows. It’s a very distinct smell that reminds him of the circus, except here people eat sugar glazed peanuts, sometimes popcorn when the salesmen roaming up and down the aisles have them, or chips. Some of the members of the audience have big fat cigars resting on their lips, others have a bottle of wine resting at their feet. Others have a plastic glass with beer or a soft drink.

Most of the people around him are wearing a white shirt and a red bandana around their neck, although he has to admit that there are a lot of fancy suit-wearing men with their equally well dressed significant others.

“ _Pardon, excusez moi_ ,” he says, as he inches forward on the tiny rows, stepping over bags and other things the audience has put down in front of them.

He’s caught sight of Barney already, and when he finally plops down on his seat Clint shakes his head. “You better have an excellent reason for bringing me here, Barns,” he states, as he looks out onto the oval shaped sandy arena in front of him. The two white lines are being retraced by the ones Clint thinks are being called _‘monos’_ , but he’s not that much into the terminology of this… art form. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t call it that, anyway.

Barney looks up at him, from under a straw hat. “Oh, just sit your ass down and enjoy this,” he says as he taps the seat next to him. He looks very local, Clint thinks, wearing an ugly shirt that the locals call a _‘chemise de campo’_ that he probably got in that shop on the corner of the street right behind the arena.

“I don’t think I’m supposed to enjoy watching people torture animals for their own personal amusement,” Clint murmurs under his breath and Barney rolls his eyes, to which Clint replies, “I’ve killed people for setting up dog fight pits and I bet you don’t need a reminder as to what I did to Tiboldt when I found out-”

“Yes, when you found out how he treated the elephants, I know, I read all about that neat little stunt you pulled. No, sit your ass down and enjoy this little two to three hour ride with me. You don’t have to comment on anything, and I’m not asking you to like it, I’m asking you to listen to what I have to say because nobody here would suspect you and me talking about what I’m about to tell you in this context,” Barney explains, quietly, as he pulls out several different colored handkerchiefs from the pocket in his shirt.

“Please tell me you didn’t actually look into these barbaric traditions,” Clint mutters, and Barney rolls his eyes.

“I did, because unlike you, I actually looked into the rulebook of this so called barbaric tradition to understand why people go to them and why it’s still a thing in the Lord’s year 2010,” he answers, before putting out the 5 handkerchiefs. “The white one is to instruct the different _tercios_ , which are the thirds in the spectacle, and so the president of the corrida can decide if music should be played in the last one, and it is also this color that decides how many trophies the matador should get,” he starts explaining, but Clint just shakes his head.

“I don’t want to know about this, Barns. Just tell me why the fuck you made me leave home after I just got back from Puente Antiguo and travel all the way to the South of France in the middle of fucking September,” he interrupts, but before Barney can say anything more the orchestra sitting on the opposite side of the oval shaped arena starts playing. “Are they- are they playing Carmen?” he asks, when the music suddenly feels familiar.

“Yup, that they are. It’s tradition that bullfights in France start with Carmen, since it was written by a Frenchman about- you guessed it, bullfights!” Barney explains, and points at the lower entrance on the other side. “This is where the Gladiators would come through, back in ye olden days when this magnificent Roman amphitheater was used for Gladiatorial fights, but in this day and age, they use it as a the road through which the _cuadrillas_ come out, and they’ve installed the _toril_ right next to it,” Barney explains, quietly as the gentleman next to Clint gives them a pointed look.

“The cuadrillas is the team, you know, right? There’s three bullfighters - look, the one in the middle isn’t wearing his _montera_ , that’s the black hat, which means he’s never fought in this location before. And, because he’s in the middle line it also means he’s the youngest - well, not necessarily the youngest in age, but the one who took his alternative most recently. The one on the left, yeah the one in the gold and blue costume, is the one with the most experience, and the one to the right is the next in line. Each one of them has a team of _banderilleros_ , you see the ones behind them? Yeah, they’re his helpers during the fight and are there to either do his job in the second third or help out when the bull has been put to death.”

Clint sighs. “I honestly don’t care about the rules or the traditions, Barney. If you don’t tell me why I’m here, I swear to God, I’ll leave right this instant.”

Barney sighs, as he points at the armored horses and their riders. “These are the _picadors_ , and behind them come the _arrastre_ , which are the mules that will pull out the dead bull once it’s been killed. But, since you’re so insistent on not being educated in the subject, I’ll get to the point, little brother: there’s word going around in Europe that someone has found the Valkyrie.”

Clint snorts, to what the gentleman next to him gives him a shush. Rolling his eyes at it, Clint looks over at Barney. “The Valkyrie? You mean the long lost ship Captain America disappeared in right before the end of World War Two? That Valkyrie?”

“Yep.”

“Didn’t Stark’s father look for it? I mean if the Starks couldn’t find it, I doubt anyone else out there can-”

“That’s where you’d be wrong. Now, see, look, they all took off their _monteras_ to greet the president. The _alguaziles_ , the ones on horseback with the feathery hats now get a fake key to the toril in order to give it to the bull raiser, the _ganadero_ , so he can pretend to unlock the toril and let the bull lose later on. It’s a very traditional thing, you know? But yes, one of my contacts in Tromsø, in the Arctic Council, says that the Danes brought up some compelling evidence their teams in Greenland found when they were lastly seen patrolling their big icy island, Greenland.” He pauses, as Clint watches the fighters down in the ring unfold their pink and yellow capes.

“That’s the _capote de brega_ , by the way,” Barney says, following Clint’s gaze down to the sandy arena.

“Okay, since I’m stuck here anyway, why are they pouring water on the edges of them?” Clint asks, rubbing his chin.

Barney huffs, “To make it heavier, so the wind doesn’t make it blow over while there’s a bull staring at it, which would be inconvenient for the bullfighter,” he replies, before readjusting his straw hat. “So, yeah, someone found wreckage that belongs to the Valkyrie, but hasn’t decided to share it with the whole wide world, because as we know the Russians would be in there in an instant to snatch the technology out of American or other hands,” he continues, as he sits back into the creaky plastic seat.

Clint doesn’t even want to know how much these seats cost him, and he doesn’t care. “So, what do you want me to do?” he asks, as one of the helpers wearing a white shirt with a red fabric belt walks into the arena with a billboard indicating a weight, a month and year and a name on it. “Go back home and tell Fury ‘hey dude, I need to go to Greenland because some foreign military supposedly found Captain America’? I don’t think that’ll hold up in his office, man.”

Three blows into the trumpets keep Barney from replying immediately. “Well, something like that. Here, look now, the first bull was 567 kgs and is four years old, which is the usual age they are. The oldest bullfighter is always the one to start, so he’ll go through the traditional three tercios first,” Barney explains and Clint shakes his head. “Okay, look, I got you this,” Barney finally says, as he opens a leather bag and pulls out a file. “My contact got me these, they’re the scientific results the research team conducted in Norway on the samples, and they’re playing it close to their chest. Bring that information to Fury and before you’ve looked around you, you’ll be out of here and thrown out into the wild and cold as hell North Pole icy vastness.”

He pauses as he hands Clint an extra white handkerchief. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“If you like what he does, you wave this up and down while everyone else does and it petitions for the president to give the bullfighter a trophy,” Barney explains nonchalantly.

“Do I even want to know-”

“They’re usually the ears, but every now and then, they cut off the tail too, if it’s been a very good show” Barney replies before Clint can finish his sentence, and Clint shakes his head, rubbing his eyes with his index and thumb. But, giving him the benefit of the doubt and because he knows Barney so well, he decides to stay put and endure this ancient spectacle for the sake of knowing why his brother came out from the dark to bring him information about Captain America.

* * *

**Present Day, Waverly, Iowa, United States of America**

 

 ****“Your brother Barney is the reason I’m here?” Steve asks, incredulous, as Clint shifts Nathaniel from one arm to the other. He’s chewing on his fingers, something he still hasn’t realized hurts because his small milk teeth have popped out.

“I wouldn’t exactly put it like that, but yeah,” Clint shrugs. “I mean we spent the entire evening together, but I flew out of France back home to the Triskelion the next morning with the file he gave me. It was a pretty detailed layout of where they’d found the HYDRA wreckage and some coordinates of a triangulation area they want to explore, so…”

“I did not know France allowed the fighting of bulls still,” Wanda states, as she gets up from the sofa, to follow Laura who’s gone back into the kitchen to help with dinner.

Clint looks over his shoulder at her. “You’d be surprised at how many towns in the South of France actually hold their own Ferias!” he says, before looking down at Nathaniel who is smiling. “It’s time for dinner soon, buddy, you want to come to the kitchen and get ready?” he asks, and nods at Steve, before heading back to the kitchen to set up Nathaniel in his high chair and put a bib around his neck to keep him from trashing the linen shirt he’s wearing.

Cooper looks over at Steve who hasn’t moved from the IKEA chair he’s sitting on. “Told you Dad was on the team that found you. He got a medal and everything, although he doesn’t like bragging about it,” he mutters, as he looks down at his hands.

“A medal? From the President?” Steve asks, and imagines Clint walking up to Barack Obama and getting handed a medal. Strangely, it wouldn’t be too odd to think of, but Cooper’s answer breaks up that mental picture. Steve is pretty sure though that Clint does have a medal from the United States Marine Corps stashed away somewhere.

“No, well, yeah, I mean he’s got a Navy Cross, but he’s also got a- I don’t remember the name, but he got one from the Queen of Denmark after he found the Valkyrie, but it was never like officially published anywhere, so nobody knows,” Cooper explains.

Steve looks over at the kitchen door again, and rubs his temple as he does so. “Well, that’s… I guess I should say thanks to your dad, then,” he says, quietly, as if he’s ashamed of it. Cooper just tilts his head slightly and looks him dead in the eye.

“Don’t think you actually need to,” the kid answers and this time Steve can’t help but smile.

“Well, without him I might have ended up in the wrong hands,” he replies and Cooper nods, allowing him to elaborate. “Someone I was very close to ended up in the same hands, and your dad’s job is gone because of it.”

Cooper snorts. “Yeah, well, he was gonna retire anyway,” he states, as he gets up from the floor and fetches the book Wanda had been reading to Nathaniel. “Say, Steve, have you heard about what’s been going on in Hell’s Kitchen lately?”

Steve frowns. “Yeah. There’s- wait, are you old enough to know about this?” he asks, and Cooper looks at him like he’s the biggest idiot of the year.

“My dad’s an international undercover agent, assassin and spy, I think I’m old enough to know about someone shooting up three different gangs in New York,” he mutters under his breath. Steve’s reached out his hand to see the children’s book and Cooper hands it to him as he does so.

“One batch, two batch?” Steve asks inquisitively.

Cooper nods at the book. “It’s a book Uncle Frank gave me when I was born,” he states, looking sheepish all of a sudden. “He’s my godfather and all, but, uh…” He pauses, as he takes a deep breath, thinking about what he’s supposed to say now. “Dad says that stuff happened and he’s not sure Frank can be my godfather anymore.”

* * *

“I don’t think that Steve wants to-”

“Well, he isn’t getting a say in it,” Laura interrupts as Clint helps Nathaniel put food on his fork and into his mouth. Laura’s had a glass of wine tonight, maybe two. It’s not that often that she gets to share wine with someone, as Clint stays clear of alcohol whenever he can. She doesn’t blame him, to be honest, growing up with an alcoholic and violent father.

So, she’d opened up a bottle of Costières de Nîmes and shared it with Wanda and Steve. Clint hasn’t had the heart to tell her that Steve can’t get drunk or tipsy on regular alcohol, but he lets her have it. And Steve looks like he’s enjoying himself anyway, so Clint is fine with taking care of his 4 year old son, while Wanda listens closely.

“Now, Wanda, whenever you get a boyfriend- or a girlfriend, doesn’t matter- you have to make sure that when he leaves for a whole YEAR, you say goodbye to him proper, okay? Because this fancy guy right there,” she says, pointing at Clint with her fork, “left for a whole year to go looking for this piece of meat right there,” she points at Steve whom Clint swears is blushing, “and left me behind with that little ball of trouble and this little ball of trouble,” she points at Cooper and Lila respectively.

Clint fakes clearing his throat to get her attention. “I can’t believe you’re seriously going to tell Steve about-”

“Yes I am, now shut the hell up, husband,” Laura cracks, and Wanda can’t help the smile that creeps onto her face. Steve leans back into his chair and looks over at Laura expectantly, while Lila hides her face behind her hand, embarrassed.

“You see, he came home from France a couple of days after leaving for it with a big file in his hand and saying he needed to go to DC and talk to his boss - which is Fury, by the way - about going off and finding something that’s been missing for years. He didn’t want to say what it was, because, you know him, he’ll keep a secret even if he gets the living daylights kicked out of him, but when he left he said he’d be gone for half a year, max! Hah! Can you believe him?” she says, and Clint shakes his head, mockingly but jokingly, at her.

“I told you that I needed to go investigate some clues that popped up and that it might take six months,” he defends.

“But then you were gone a whole year!” Lila interrupts.

“Thank you, honey! See, you were gone a whole year, and when you come home  you tell us- you tell us, what was it again? Oh right, there’s going to be breaking news and this time it’s because I did something good? Wasn’t that- yeah, that’s what you said!” Laura chuckles.

“Daddy found Captain America!” Lila exclaims and points excitedly at Steve with her fork, the steamed carrot previously sitting on the edges of it flying off. Wanda catches it with a flick of her wrist before it hits the floor and Laura gazes over at her with a pout.

“And now, Captain America is sharing our table, so remember your manners, young lady!” Laura smiles, as she looks over at Steve, a warmth in her gaze that Steve remembers from his own mother. “And I wouldn’t have wished it any other way. I’m glad he left and got you out of there, Steve.” She pauses, as the tone gets a bit more serious around the table, Clint avoiding eye contact with everybody as he concentrates on Nathaniel who is currently refusing to eat the pasta on his place and seems more interested in playing with it. “You’d been missing for 70 years, there was this whole- kind of like Elvis, you know? People saying they saw you alive in the middle of Russia, undercover and stuff. Movies have been made about you and Barnes, and there’s been an exhibit at the Luxor in Vegas for years with memorabilia, have you made it there yet?”

“Haven’t had the opportunity yet, ma’am,” Steve replies, a smile on his face. He was aware that there had been movies made, documentaries made, and even a Broadway musical, but he hadn’t gone to investigate any of them. The loss of his past, friends and of time gone by still hurt too much. He doesn’t let the pain in his heart show though, as he looks at Wanda, then at an artwork hanging on the wall behind her, which hangs slightly crooked. “But I am glad your husband got me out of the ice,” he states, focusing in on Clint who gives him a warm smile.

“Glad to have you back in the world of the living, Cap,” Clint replies and Steve shares a knowing look with Cooper.

“Care to tell the story?” Steve then asks, and Laura looks over at Clint who looks at her like she’s supposed to dismiss the idea.

“Nobody wants to hear that story,” he states flatly.

“Yes they do!” / “Yes we do!” both Laura and Wanda exclaim at the same time, before Steve readjusts himself on the chair.

“I’d like to hear the story, Clint. Nick never bothered to tell me. He didn’t bother telling me a lot of things.” Steve hasn’t said a lot in this phrase, but the slight nudge in the knee that Laura gives him reassures him. She knows. She knows that the poor boy would like to know why he woke up 70 years in the future and how it happened. “I assure you, it would be an honor to know exactly how it went down. I’m sure there’s a lot I have to catch up on, but I think that the best people to tell me this story are sitting at this table,” he continues, his gaze sweeping across the table and meeting Cooper’s, who smiles at him.

Clint sighs at the obvious display of bullying, and rolls his eyes after doing so. “Fine. But if you tell Stark about this, I will put you back into the ice myself, understood?” he jokes, and Steve nods with a smirk on his face.

“Aye aye, Barton.”

As Clint gets up and leaves the table with a “I’ll be right back,” Lila slightly bends forward and gets Steve’s attention by motioning at him.

“Dad used to be a major in the army, so he’s technically your superior,” she whispers at him with a look of ‘you didn’t hear it from me’ and Steve has to pause for a second, before looking over at Wanda, who shrugs.

“I do not know the ranks of the American military,” she says and Laura laughs.

“Clint’s a major in the US Army, and a second lieutenant in the US Navy,” she explains, as she points to the wall behind Steve. As he turns around, Steve realizes for the first time that what he thought was just a neat collage is actually an intricate pattern of stripes, stars and other military insignia put together in an intricate work of patchwork. “But since he works for SHIELD, he’s only those two things with an undercover name,” Laura explains, and Steve turns around again to look at Laura.

“I had no idea.”

They don’t have the chance to discuss it any longer, as Clint makes his way back to the dining room and presents Steve with a little red velvet covered box. “Open it,” he instructs, and Steve puts down his fork as he picks up the box from the table.

Opening it up, he finds a little medal, in the shape of a cross, hanging under a white and red ribbon. Upon further inspection, he realizes that it says “Gud og kongen” in the four different ends of the cross. Looking over at Clint inquisitively, he hands the little box over at Wanda, whose hand reached out for it when he was done looking.

“Clint is a Danish knight,” Laura explains, as Clint sits back down on his appointed seat. “Or something like that, right?”

“I guess, I’m not entirely sure. The Danes found you, I was just cruising along their military when they happened to find the Valkyrie,” Clint explains, as he picks Nathaniel out of the high chair, and undoes the bib around his son’s neck, carefully placing it onto the table, before stroking the light ginger hair that’s starting to get a little bit too long on his son’s head. “The “M” you see on the top of the cross is for Margrethe the Second, she’s the reigning monarch in Denmark right now,” he answers, before continuing, “But I got this cross from the hands of His Majesty the Crown Prince, Frederik the Tenth of Denmark,” he replies, nonchalantly.

“Aren’t these medals only for nationals?” Wanda asks, as she hands the little velour clad box to Cooper, who has put out his hand as well to see it.

“Well, the Ridderkors, as it is called, can actually be given out to foreign dignitaries or military soldiers for deserving military or civilian special efforts when it comes to Danish interests… And since finding you, Steve, counts as Danish interests, it was decided that all 12 of us in the Sirius Patrol should receive the honor of a knighthood for finding you and the Valkyrie,” Clint finishes off, making sure Nathaniel can’t slide off his lap, even though the kid is trying hard as can be to get off of his father’s leg.

“It actually started back in France, when I met up with my brother Barney, like I told you, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like the Penny and Dime reference? And yup, you will pry Frank Castle being Cooper's godfather from my cold dead hands. 
> 
> The glass of water freezing overnight is actually an anecdote I have from my grandmother, who has told us it happened several times. 
> 
> Further readings:  
> \- [A little article](https://visitgreenland.com/about-greenland/climate-changes/%0A) about Global Warming in the Arctic/Greenland.  
> \- [More on the Exxon Valdez oil spill](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exxon_Valdez_oil_spill) that happened in Alaska.  
> \- **Cape Morris Jessup** is the northernmost point of mainland Greenland at 83°37′39″N 32°39′52″W and is 711.8 km (384 nm / 442 miles) from the geographic North Pole.  
>  -[The Arctic Council](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arctic_Council) is a high-level intergovernmental forum which addresses issues faced by the Arctic governments and the indigenous peoples of the Arctic.  
> \- Yes, [bullfighting happens in France](http://www.languedoc-france.info/0315_bullrunning.htm) too.  
> \- [Link to the Wikipedia article](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Order_of_the_Dannebrog) about the Order of Dannebrog / Ridderkors.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait for you guys to read this chapter! You guys better be excited!!
> 
> Individual Chapter Warnings:   
> \- First scene mentions the bullfighting again, but does not go as far into details as the previous chapter.  
> \- Fleeting mention of human trafficking (not plot relevant).

**FLASHBACK, Nimes, France**

**September 18th, 2010, evening**.

 

The spectacle had lasted about two and a half hours, and had seen six bulls come in alive and leave dead. Clint doesn’t ever want to be a part of it again.

“So, you’ve been telling me all about the rumors of Valkyries and Captain America,” Clint says, as they’re strolling through the streets of the old Roman city of Nîmes. There are metal crocodiles every so often on the ground, and the marble on the ground is well worn in places. They’re currently strolling through the small streets of the city, which are crowded with the 14,000 people who had been huddled together in the arena.

No matter how many times Barney tells him that the bulls are raised for the fight and kill each other in the field, Clint refuses to believe it. That’s like saying that pitbulls were raised for dog fights and saying it’s wrong when they’re cuddling newborns they care about.

Down the Rue de la Violette, the ticketing office is still open even though it’s after eight at night, the smell of paëlla and other local foods like Guardianne de Toro fill the air, and for once, Clint would like to try the local cuisine. “Know any place that has good food?” he asks Barney, he looks up from the bunch of Euro notes he’s counting.

Barney places them in an inside pocket in his shirt, and guides Clint to the left, up through Rue de l’Aspic, and they pass a salesman who does Paninis and other candies.

“There’s the Place du Marché not too far, they always set up a lot of chairs and restaurants out on the patios, I’m sure there’s spots there,” Barney answers, as they go to the left again, and pass some shops that are holding late night opening hours. Clint peeks into one, and wonders if Laura would like one of the vintage leather bags that is hanging up in the vitrine. “What are you thinking about having?” Barney asks, and Clint shrugs.

“Anything, really, it smells delicious regardless of what it is.”

Barney smirks, and brings them through to the Place du Marché, and that it is. A nice market, with flowers, shops and huge palm trees and a crocodile fountain. “What’s up with the crocodiles?” Clint asks, pointing at the  metal sculpture currently being climbed by two kids, and this time, Barney shrugs.

“Dunno, probably something to do with the Romans,” he answers, before pointing at one of the restaurants. “The Le Paseo has good foods,” he states, as they walk over to the menus.

“Hey, Barney, why are you even here?” Clint asks, as Barney nods to himself, and pulls off the straw hat. It’s gotten dark now, and the streetlights are the only things keeping everything well lit. Not that it’s a problem, though, for Clint likes it. He likes the activity in the street, the loud bass and lyrics of the music that’s playing in bars not too far away, and the chatter of people who are out and enjoying themselves.

Barney signals one of the waitresses clad in red for two, holding his index and middle finger up, and she points at them towards a table in the middle. The patio is rather busy, especially since everybody is looking for a place to eat now that the circus in the arena has finished. “Well, I am here because,” he motions for Clint to sit down, “I have a job to do tonight,” he finally answers as they both push their chairs forward after seating.

The young waitress - Clint wonders if she’s even old enough to be working tonight, but knowing the locals, she’s probably the daughter of the owner looking to make a little money under the table - hands them menus and asks them in French what they’d like to drink.

“ _Un rosé_ ,” Barney answers, before pointing at Clint who curses inwardly for not practicing his French.

“ _Un coca-cola, s’il vous plaît_ ,” he replies, and gives Barney a pointed look before smiling at the young lady as she tells them she’s fetching their drinks. “A job? Please tell me you didn’t-”

“Well, I thought if you were going to come anyway, you might as well help me get the job done,” Barney answers with that typical _flazeda_ feeling he has about this sort of job.

“What did they do?” Clint asks, as he pulls open the laminated menu, which has probably been in use for quite the number of years, given the amount of corrections done in pen inside of it.

Barney huffs. “Don’t know, but probably something bad,” he replies, before clearing his throat. Clint doesn’t believe him for a single second, as Barney would never pick a job without knowing exactly the how and the when of what happened to doom that soul to death. It’s one of their few redeemable traits, the Bartons: they only kill the one that deserve to die.

(Or that’s what Clint likes to tell himself, anyway).

“ _Vous avez choisi_?” the waitress suddenly says, as she appears from the middle of nowhere with two glasses filled with the slightly pink liquid they’ve both ordered.

Barney nods. “ _Je vais prendre la rouille, s’il vous plaît, et mon frère va prendre…?_ ” he says, giving the conversation to Clint again, who has honestly not had the time to look at the menu correctly.

“ _Je vais prendre la paëlla_ ,” Clint replies and the young girl laughs.

“ _Vous êtes américains_?” she asks, and Clint makes a face.

“That obvious, uh?”

 _“Well, not really, but it iz not zat often zat we get Americans at ze Feria,”_ she says in a strongly French accented English.

Clint chuckles, before nodding over at Barney. “ _Nous pouvons parler francais_ ,” he says and Barney nods.

“ _Notre professeur était francais, quand nous étions jeunes_ ,” Barney explains, and the waitress nods. “ _Il nous a appris le francais pendant beaucoup d’années._ ”

To hear Barney speak French with the same intonations as Jacques used to - it makes Clint feel bad about himself. He shouldn’t have let the French language go to waste like he did, but then all the scars on his back from the Swordsman’s belt buckle made him forget the language out of spite. It’s still there, though, and he can feel that whenever he goes to Paris, or Alsace, or that last time they went to Carcassonne to look at the ancient Cathar ruins, it would roll off his tongue more and more naturally the more time he spent in France.

She smiles at them and walks off to the kitchen with her little notepad, and Barney watches her leave. For a second Clint is this close to telling Barney off - she’s probably not even 18 yet, Barney! - but he realizes that Barney took the opportunity to falsely look at her ass in order to check out the table behind them. “Your job?” Clint questions, and Barney nods.

They receive and eat their food soon enough, and Clint compliments the girl on the fact that it is the best paëlla he’s had in a long time. Barney takes the time to tell the cook that the calamari in his rouille was the most amazing dish he’s had in ages. As soon as they leave the table, though, they’re off to follow Barney’s mark through the crowded of the animated streets. They pass through some side streets and end up on the Boulevard Victor Hugo, and Clint makes a joke that all French cities must have a Boulevard Victor Hugo. Barney chimes back in saying that they also need a Place Jean Jaurès, and they both laugh at how much the Swordsman taught them, in spite of being an abusive piece of shit.

It’s when they reach the Maison Carrée, one of the best preserved temple facades from the former Roman Empire that things start to get interesting. There are young teenagers that are out partying and getting drunk on the steps up to the temple, and Barney jokes that the Romans would have liked that, before they follow the mark around the corners of the Norman Foster designed public library.

Clint takes out the bodyguard, and Barney… Well, Barney takes care of his mark. He throws the straw hat away from himself into one of the garbage dumps that’s not too far off, and knocks the man out with a punch to the throat, before cracking his head 90 degrees to the side. Clint makes a face. “Really?” he exclaims, and Barney just shrugs.

“Just thought it’d make the ‘he’s dead drunk’ gag a lot easier if there was no blood,” he gives as a way of explanation, and Clint just wants to groan.

“We are not doing the “They’re both drunk as hell” skit,” Clint says, but Barney looks at him.

“You know you want to,” he insists, and Clint rubs his temples again as Barney grins widely. “Okay, but I get to carry him and you get to play the drunk fool because you’ve actually had something to drink,” Clint says, and Barney nods.

“Alrighty then, still on the water train?”

“Always on the water train, I’m not touching alcohol voluntarily,” Clint bites back, as he steps forward to pull the man with the greased back, sleazy hair over his shoulders, in a fireman’s carry. “Now, you better sell it like crazy- where are we even supposed to get rid of him?” he suddenly asks, and Barney laughs.

“The Jardins de la Fontaine,” he exclaims proudly, loud enough that some bystanders look over at them, but he just keels forward and slams onto his knees in a very drunk fashion. After all, they both learnt from one of the greater drunks of their time, and Clint knows for sure that Barney has seen a lot of alcohol in his day.

They get rid of the body by throwing it into the water canals of the 17th century botanical gardens. The morning after, Barney wakes up by throwing up into an empty hotel room, with Clint sitting on a plane out of the country and back to the US.

* * *

 

 **_Present Day,_ ** **_Waverly, Iowa, United States of America_ **

 

“Did you ever find out what the mark was accused of?” Wanda asks.

They’ve moved from the dinner table into the living room, and they’re all getting ready to put on a movie on the large television screen. Steve is out in the kitchen teaching Lila to make popcorn the old fashioned way on the stove, Cooper is nestled between Wanda and Laura, and Clint is sitting with his back to the couch with Nathaniel sleazily lying on his chest looking at the advertisements that are running on the television screen.

Clint nods quietly, Nathaniel gripping his fingers. “Turns out he was on Interpol’s most wanted list for human trafficking in underage girls from the Philippines,” he answers, looking up over his shoulder at Wanda, who nods.

“Your brother is like you,” she says and Laura lets out a sarcastic laugh. Wanda frowns, defending her phrasing. “He kills only people who deserve to die.”

“Well, Barns does whatever the hell he wants to, to be honest. He got paid a hell of a lot of money to take out that monster, but he didn’t get paid by the government. It was a job by another man on the market for human trafficking, as it turns out, that sponsored the kill,” Clint explains, readjusting the plushie in Nathaniel’s hand, so it doesn’t slide off of him.

It cools the mood a little bit, and Clint can’t help but chuckle. “Didn’t mean to make everybody go quiet,” he says, and Cooper’s hand goes to touch his dad’s hair, ruffling it.

“Didn’t do that, we just think Uncle Barns is a weirdo,” he says and Clint smacks his son’s hand out of his hair.

“Tell them about why the Queen of Denmark gave you, a mere American citizen, a medal that basically makes you a knight in their country, though,” Cooper insists, and Wanda smiles at Clint.

“Well,” Clint starts, but gets interrupted when Lila runs in shrieking with joy with a handful of bowls to each and everyone in the living room containing homemade popcorn. Nathaniel immediately reciprocates the noise and as soon as the plastic bowl is within his reach, he pulls out more popcorns than he can fit in his mouth.

Clint tries again, as Steve sits down on the other couch, Lila crawling up next to him. “Well, that happened a long way into the mission,” he starts, as Nathaniel turns around with his hands filled with the white popped kernels and tries to shove one into Clint’s mouth.

Accepting the offering from his son, Clint mocks biting his son’s hand before chewing and swallowing the treat. “We were travelling over some crevasses with our team of 12 dogs, and since it was nearing spring by the time we made it back to Danmarkshavn, my partner, Elias, didn’t see a crevasse that led into the open sea. We all went through the ice like it wasn’t even there,” Clint recalls, as he adjusts Nathaniel on his lap.

His son decides to turn around and stand up, taking this moment to put his feet down on Clint’s groin, making him grimace before he places Nathaniel slightly to the side and back so that he stands on his thighs instead.

“We went through that ice sheet like it was nothing, and the water up there was well below freezing. The dogs, they were just- everything turned hysterical, mostly because the sled was stuck on the crevasse - they’re long enough that they can’t go through unless they stand up straight vertically, it’s an old Kalaalit tradition to keep them from sinking into the depths - so it didn’t sink, but the dogs, man, they got caught in the current. They’re hanging by the neck line at this point, so I do the one thing I can think of and just cut it loose. All of them get set loose and start swimming for their life, but Elias is nowhere to be seen at this point because he was in the front, right, to lead the team onto the right tracks. So I pull the line I’ve just cut loose and throw it around the handlebar, and I dive deep. It was so cold man, my eyes felt like they were going to freeze on the spot, and every single drop of water felt like tiny stabbing knives, but there was Elias, underwater, barely able to hang onto whatever the hell it was he was hanging onto.”

Clint pauses, as he strokes Nathaniel’s back. Wanda notices the goosebumps that have appeared on the archer’s arms, and she looks over at Laura who shares a look with her, before nodding. Clint continues soon after that, as he takes a breath to get over the memory. “I got him back up again, through a bobbing hole, the ones seals use to breathe during the winter, right? And then, as soon as I’m sure he can get out of the water, I just... I just let go of him to go find the dogs again,” he says, quietly, almost as quietly as he can while still being heard.

Steve doesn’t say anything for a while, and Wanda feels a pang of sadness echo through every member of the Barton family present and barely dares ask the question she asks then. “How many survived?”

“Out of the 12? Three died, that day. They drowned, and there was nothing we could do about it. Two more died later that day of hypothermia, so…” Clint pauses, as he takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says solemnly then, and Clint looks up at him with a sad smile on his lips.

“Thanks,” he replies. “I mean, in 1999, the same thing happened to another team of two soldiers and their dogs and they all died, but it was just… I can’t imagine going through what you went through, Cap. Putting the Valkyrie down and just… Being there, all alone, while you slowly froze all over.” Clint takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner,” he finally lets out, and Steve adjusts Lila on his lap.

“I was asleep, Barton. Had it been ten or a hundred years, it didn’t make a difference to me,” Steve says, forcing the tone to sound matter of fact, but Wanda feels the sadness behind the words that he doesn’t let show. Nathaniel force feeds Clint again, and that takes the edge off, as Clint hands the remote control to the television to Cooper.

“Here, Coop, you pick the movie tonight.”

Wanda quietly lets her mind wander through Clint’s and she’s pretty sure she hears dogs barking in his mind. There are three dogs she sees clear as day, then two more, and then she hears the whimpering and feels something cold grip her chest as she realizes Clint is remembering the cold events that lead to the death of almost half of his dog team. Reaching out, she tries to make the pain go away, but is greeted with an even more intense cold, that stems from Clint’s chest, as if oozing out from an open, festering wound that hasn’t closed yet.

Closing her eyes, blocking out the arguing words that are being exchanged between Cooper and Lila, she tries to listen to Clint’s heart. It takes a little bit of fine tuning, and Laura’s hand gently pressing hers pushes her further, and suddenly her eyes open.

As cold as it was to fall through the ice in the Arctic and see dogs and friend close to death or dying, nothing compared to the glacial cold of Loki’s scepter as it touched his heart.

Everything inside of her wants to scream - how can he sit there, on the floor, a child putting popcorn kennels inside his mouth like it’s the most amusing thing in the world, while he carries this knowledge, this experience within him? It’s been years since Loki, and yet… And yet, it would seem that Clint still hasn’t recovered from that icy touch.

Looking over at Steve, who’s noticed her worry, Wanda reaches out and suddenly the two auras feel ever more so similar.

And, just as if lightning had struck her, she feels a desperate pang of sadness for the two men. Steve, for the cold and ice ripped him from his time and friends and family. Clint, for the cold and ice which took his mind and held it prisoner and allowed Loki to fester inside his head.

* * *

 

**Flashback, Triskelion, Washington DC,**

**OCTOBER 2010**

 

“You were there, Agent Barton! You were there, you saw the God of Thunder himself descend on a tiny little town in New Mexico- and you want us to send you to the North Pole on the basis of some intel, whose source you don’t even want to share?!”

Director Fury is apoplectic. Phil just looks… Resigned. “Yes, sir,” Clint says, as he crosses his arms again. “I got this intel from a source I’d trust with my life, and I would like to volunteer to investigate it.”

It’s not the first time that Fury rubs his hand against his face, not unlike a facepalm, but trying to remain professional about it. He gazes over at Phil, who shrugs. “This source the same that-”

“Yes,” Clint interrupts and Fury frowns.

“You know we’ve tried, right? For years. The intel and money spent on rescuing Captain America is ridiculous, and I’d wager to say that if we’d used half the money on kids’ education or something else, it would have been a better use,” Fury says, and Clint sees Phil look down at his shoes. That’s his tell that he disagrees with Fury - Clint is pretty sure even Phil doesn’t know he does it, but it’s been consistent so far.

It’s no secret that Phil is a Captain America fanboy. Even at his age. Clint used to be a fan too. When he was a kid. Before life broke him into pieces and tore his family apart and he realized he would never be the strong, beautiful and wise soldier from Brooklyn. Everyone learned about Steve Rogers at school or through TV documentaries. There were always Steve Rogers things on sale in Walmart for the 4th of July, since it was his birthday as well as a national holiday. Everyone has at least one distant cousin who claims they’ve seen Steve Rogers walking up the cereal aisle a town over, and ever since the internet appeared there’s been so many videos on YouTube, Reddit and other forums that link the JFK assassination to a secret brainwashed Steve Rogers.

Or something. Area 51 has been said to hold him too, because he doesn’t age, or he got disfigured and mutated in the cold. Some people also claim that the Super Soldier was a hoax - he was a thing for a couple of months only and was mostly just a character on a stage to incite people to buy bonds… Nobody saw him after the War, other than the soldiers he rescued. Nobody knew Steve Rogers, except Peggy Carter and Colonel Chester Phillips. And then there were the Howling Commandos.

No, Clint knows that the US has tried for years to find Steve Rogers. He knows it because he’s been reading up on it. Ever since he came home from France, he’s been reading up on every single paper he can find within SHIELD’s paperwork and on every single piece of de-classified documents available to him from the United States Homeland department, or any of the other Arctic Command nations, including Denmark, Canada and Russian, among others.

First there had been _Operation Chrome Dome_.

The United States had assigned several B-52s into the air to fly continuously between key points and routes to points on the Soviet Union to protect the USA and its Monroe Doctrine interests from the Cold War, thinking it was a good idea. Establishing the Thule Air Base as one of those key points was just part of it. The strategic placement of the American Naval base in Greenland was partly explained because of the proximity of Greenland to the Soviet Union, Clint knows. He’s read up on his shit. He knows most of these files were declassified not too long ago, but he knows that SHIELD gained access to some previously classified documents, signed by Eisenhower, John F. Kennedy, and Johnson.

The USA didn’t spend time and effort to keep B-52 bomber aircrafts armed and airborne 24/7 just for the sake of protecting American territories. Part of the patrolling of Greenland was to cover ground and see if the ever changing landscape would reveal the Valkyrie.

It was a shame that a crash involving one of these B-52 bombers, and the mysterious disappearance of one of the 4 hydrogen bombs aboard, caused the end of the program.

Boy, Clint remembers, the Danes had not been happy to find out that their government had allowed the US military to bring in nuclear weapons onto their territory. And the radioactive contamination? Well, let’s just say, Clint knows that the workers are still trying to get compensation for it. Not a good idea.

Then there was _Project Iceworm_.

Not only did the US Government lie to the Danish Government officials about their whole operation of building a network of mobile nuclear missile launch sites under the Greenland Ice Sheet, telling them that it would actually be used for exploring construction techniques under Arctic conditions and scientific experiments on the icecap… It also lied about one other purpose: to look for the Valkyrie.

The main cover location, Camp Century, located 150 miles inland from the Thule Air Base, was connected to the Camp Fistclench location. By making an effort to use triangulation between the three locations, US officials hoped to map out the ice sheet.

It had been a huge disaster, and when it came to light in 1995, it was also revealed that the US Military had just abandoned all of their materials and accommodations - dangerous or not - on site.

And finally, Clint had found some information about the _Bluie East and West gridline_.

Well, sure, the building of 14 base locations during World War Two had helped greatly in gathering weather information, but the five Bluie East and the nine Bluie West bases were also used later on to grid out Greenland.

Clint had had no idea that this was a thing - nor that the Thule Air Base even existed - until he’d looked into Steve Rogers’ disappearance, but after all… There were a lot of things he didn’t know about.

The Bluie East and West gridline, however, was used partially for weather reports during the Cold War and partially for high-frequency direction finding, in the hopes of picking up any signal from the Valkyrie. The Allies had confiscated a lot of HYDRA technology when they ransacked Schmidt’s base, but so far, none had picked up any signal.

Maybe… Maybe this is a waste of ressources. Maybe he won't make a single damn difference. Maybe it doesn't matter.

No, Clint just shakes his head. He’s done his homework. He’s ready for this, he’s done his research.

“Howard Stark found that- he found that power source, right? Well, who’s to say that something else didn’t survive the crash? Tony Stark hacked into NASA to take control of some of their satellites to look for the Valkyrie on the surface of the ice sheet - but nothing ever showed up. What if it’s snowed in? What if the debris has been- what if there’s been some sort of event that caused everything to explode? I mean, with respect, we lost a fucking hydrogen bomb up there, sir! Who’s to say we can’t at least find a plane that’s bigger than a fucking B-52 bomber?!” Clint bites, and he looks over at Phil. “I know you’ve done your research too, Phil, and I know you know that there’s something to be done about it!”

He takes a deep breath, as Fury just frowns that frown he does so well. Clint hates it with his entire gut. “Sir, you trusted me enough when I brought in Romanoff to send her off to look after Stark when he got palladium poisoning, you have to trust me with this.”

He walks up to Fury’s desk and puts down his hands on it, leaning forward as to make sure Nick Fury can’t miss what he’s about to tell him. “I’d like to go in person, sir.”

There is no reaction, so Clint takes it as an invitation to continue. “The Sirius Patrol starts training next month,” he begins but as Fury begins to open his mouth in protest, Clint slams the palm of his hand onto Fury’s desk.

“Let me finish, sir, please. They’re the patrol that runs along the 10,000 mile long North Eastern part of Greenland, and that’s the only place we haven’t looked. We’ve looked everywhere close enough to our base in Thule, and we’ve looked almost- we’ve looked every fucking where but there. What if the Danes know something we don’t? What if while they go and change out their flag in the fucking North Pole, they’re also looking for Steve Rogers?”

He stops, and lets Nick Fury and Phil Coulson exchange a glance, before Phil speaks. “Agent Barton, if you could give us the room.” It’s an indirect order, and Clint knows it means he has to get the hell out of there. He acquiesces to the request with a defiant nod towards Director Fury, before grabbing his vest and walking out of the room.

He knows why he’s getting so agitated about it. Like every single little kid who grew up in the United States of America, Clint had dreamed of one day meeting Captain America. He’d dreamed of seeing him for real, in the hopes that it had all been a misunderstanding and that he was actually alive. He’d played Captain American and Sergeant Barnes with his brother many times, as children, just as they played cowboys and indians.

He’s seen that clip of Steve Rogers in costume performing on some stage somewhere punching a fake Adolf Hitler in the jaw too many times to count, and when the clip found its way onto a National Archives YouTube channel, it broke over 50 million views in a couple of months only, which is pretty incredible considering that the clip was over 60 years old.

As he fumes in the hall, trying to catch any sound coming from inside Fury’s office, he thinks back to everything he knows about Steve Rogers. He’d written a paper on him, when he was 11 and still went to school. Before everything went to hell and his mom and dad died and him and Barney went to the circus. He’d written a paper about Steve Rogers, and the good Captain had always been a shadow over him.

Clint knows the entire US military has Captain America’s shadow over them. He’d been the only super-soldier to come out of the Manhattan project, and Clint knows for sure that there have been many attempts to replicate the serum. He knows the Chinese and Russians and North Koreans have been trying too, but all have failed. None so much as Bruce Banner, who not only turned into a monster because of his attempts, but almost killed one of the US military’s top general’s daughters in the process.

No sound makes it out of the room. He’s this close to going off and find Natasha, but he knows that she’s off. Natasha’s in Vladivostok currently, deep undercover in Richard Frampton’s organization. As far as Clint knows, he’s working for the Ten Rings, and knowing they got their hands on a Jericho Missile, he wouldn’t want anyone to get close to them.

He thinks about calling Laura to vent to her about how he feels about it, but he knows none of the lines are secure. He hates it, because he’s been trying to get home, he’s been trying to see her again - Lila’s starting school soon enough and he wants to be there for her first day. But he can’t, can he? Because he’s stuck here, barking about finding Captain America in Greenland. What the hell is he getting himself into, he asks himself, as he slides down onto one of the suede upholstered stools in the hall outside of Nick Fury’s office.

They’re fucking hideous, but Clint knows Fury has a personal attachment to them. He has never dared ask, but he knows Phil has scolded him for spilling coffee on them one time too many. The quiet hum of the neon lights seem to be the only thing he can hear, until the door pushes open and Phil appears in the doorframe.

“Barton,” Phil says in that typical him voice, and Clint knows he’s in trouble. He has no idea exactly how much - he hasn’t been in as much trouble as he was back when he brought Natasha in, but still. He knows when Nick Fury is winding up to chew him out, and this time, it definitely feels like he’s in it for a verbal ass kicking. He gets onto his feet and stands straight as he goes back into Nick Fury’s office.

Phil Coulson leaves behind him, and that’s the first sign that he’s in deep shit. He sighs as soon as the door closes. “With all due respect, Sir-”

“Shut up, Barton,” Fury bites. He gets up from his chair, which Clint knows is a vintage Charles Pollock leather chair, and walks around the desk to be at Clint’s level. There’s a file in his right hand.

“You know that Phil is one of the biggest Captain America fans there is?” he asks, and Clint nods, absentmindedly. “He’s got all the collector’s basketball cards in his locker, and he’s actually one of the few people here, along with Agent Sitwell, who’s been working on trying to find the Valkyrie. We’d hoped that Doctor Banner would help us locate the Valkyrie with his acute senses for gamma radiation, but unfortunately, the US Military spooked him into hiding in Rio.”

Nick Fury pauses, and Clint feels himself getting tingly. This doesn’t feel like an ass kicking. Yet.

“Sir-”

“Oh, just let me talk it out, for fuck’s sake, Barton. You said you knew about Howard Stark finding the cube, and you probably know a lot more than that pretty face of yours lets on. We know you stole Sitwell’s credentials to search the system, and we know that you asked Leopold Fitz to help you out with it,” Fury says, and Clint looks down at his feet. Yes, he’d stolen Sitwell’s login and password, but it had been so easy… And as for Leo Fitz, well, Clint knew how the young kid liked to help him, and he’d just had to mention the Valkyrie once for the young Agent to get head over heels about it.

“You’re one of our best agents, Barton, and I have to admit I had other plans for you. You know how that Cube awoke when the whole Thor incident happened? I’d have liked you to keep an eye on it, as well as the head scientist doing research on it, Erik Selvig, remember him? Yeah, well. For now we’ll have to wait a little longer, since you’re right.”

This time Clint can barely contain the surprise that makes its way onto his face. “You- you- you’re agreeing with me?”

Director Fury nods. “The Sirius Patrol, like you mentioned it, has to patrol a great patch of land where nobody lives in order to establish the sovereignty of Denmark over the territory. The last coordinates we have from the Valkyrie- the last information we have has never been released to anyone outside of SHIELD.”

There’s a pause, as Clint takes it in.

“Nobody knew where Steve Rogers crashed the Valkyrie, because nobody could read the coordinates on the record they were being kept on. However, when Director Carter established the SSR, which then turned into SHIELD, she made it one of our missions to find Steve Rogers again. She has spent countless hours and effort to keep his final resting place a secret, so that the world would be able to wake him up if he was still alive. When she- when she got sick, and I had to step up as Director of SHIELD, she gave me all the information she had about the crash.” He takes a deep breath, before handing an old manila folder to Clint.

“Last known location of the Valkyrie, in flight, was 16 miles north west of Cape Morris Jesup. That’s where the Sirius Patrol puts up a flag every single year to commemorate the North Pole, or something, and that’s around where we think the Valkyrie went down. Nature up there is one of the harshest environments on the planet, and some of the SHIELD experts that have looked into it are adamant: there’s no way anyone, even Steve Rogers, could have survived a crash up there.”

Clint opens up the manila folder to see an old radar screenshot, with three crosses marking the last known pings the Valkyrie had sent back to its home location, at the HYDRA base in the Alps. He shudders at the thought of that dreaded fortress in the middle of the mountains, where HYDRA experimented on prisoners of war… He looks up from the manila folder at Fury’s one eye. “You know where he is?”

Director Fury makes a grimace. “We don’t know exactly, but we’ve got a good idea. And some of the younger agents are sure they’d be able to revive Captain Rogers if the right precautions are taken if he was ever found… intact.” Fury returns the glance at Clint, and Clint feels something move inside his chest. Something like pride, at the same time as a deep, dark fear.

“You’re going to Denmark to train with the Sirius Patrol, Agent Barton. Bring Steve Rogers home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, Natasha being undercover in Vladivostok is a thing in the prelude comics for the first Avengers movie, and why she's interrogating that Russian guy in the beginning of the movie.   
> Did you like the namedrops in the chapter, as well? 
> 
> Further readings:   
> \- An interesting article (with map) about [Operation Chrome Dome ](http://www.abovetopsecret.com/forum/thread1014385/pg1)  
> \- [A good book about the influence of the Monroe Doctrine in Greenland](https://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1057/9781137493910_5), and why Greenland and the Thule Air Base became strategic locations during the Cold War.  
> \- A [The Guardian Article](https://www.theguardian.com/world/2016/sep/27/receding-icecap-top-secret-us-nuclear-project-greenland-camp-century-project-iceworm) about Project Iceworm, and the fact that Americans just left all their shit behind and global warming will probably reveal all that shit to the world.  
> \- Here is a [YouTube video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HsMmsQYhPno) of a documentary about Project Iceworm.   
> \- Read more about the Bluie gridline in the first volume of [History of United States Naval Operations in World War II](https://www.amazon.com/History-United-States-Naval-Operations/dp/0762854316) by Samuel Eliot Morison.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys excited yet? 
> 
> I have to admit that including Denmark in this fic has a very dear personal meaning for me, and I hope you guys won't grow tired of me namedropping places or playing with the fact that I live here. 
> 
> Individual Chapter Warnings:  
> \- None.

**PRESENT DAY**

**Waverly, Iowa, United States of America**

 

They’re cleaning up the dishes on the table. The kids have been put to sleep, and Laura is teaching Wanda how to knit. Steve has spent some time online with Sam and Tony at the compound, asking how things are going.

It’s snowing outside, and Clint has said again that there’ll probably be some more damage to the fences if they’re not careful. Some white tails had passed out around the window to the kitchen, the automatic yellow light turning on as their movement activated the security feature. Steve had commented on it, and Clint had chuckled. He’d explained that as much as he knew the farm was off limits and off the record, he would never, ever let his guard down. Too many things have happened in the last years for him to end up being entirely naive about it.

“You’ve seen the Valkyrie?” Steve asks, as he is drying one of the wine glasses Clint has just finished washing.

As he plunges some other cutlery into the plastic tub in the sink, Clint nods. “Yeah, I’ve seen it. Saw the hole the Tesseract oozed through, and saw the signs of your battle with Schmidt inside of it,” he replies, as he squeezes some more dishwashing soap into the lukewarm water. He plunges the sponge down and picks up a knife that’s buttered up entirely before he speaks again.

“It was almost entirely gone under the ice, and parts of it had been crushed by the raw power of the moving ice sheet. Like, I mean, I know how glaciers work and how they crush everything in their path, but like to see- to see that you were still there, in the pilot’s seat and you hadn’t been crushed to death? It blew my mind.” He pauses, for a couple of seconds. “Part of the wreckage looked like it had been stomped on by a greedy child, you know? Or crushed by a giant. Either of those. But the pilot’s seat and even the thick glass was still intact, and that was just… Mind blowing,” Clint says, continuing to wash off the cutlery, handing it to Steve.

“I never realized,” Steve says, quietly, and Clint pretends he didn’t hear, looking up at the window as the lights have just come on again. He nudges at Steve with his elbow and motions with his chin at something lurking in the shadows outside, the yellow light from the bulbs reflecting in its eyes.

“Bobcat,” he says, and watches as Steve’s face goes from sad to amazed. Clint smiles at himself at the distraction that decided to pop up, and takes a couple of seconds to explain. “They live not too far from here,” he explains, “but we usually only see them in winter. They’re too shy during the summer months, and they barely ever leave any traces. Coop’ saw the mom with her litter last year, and was head over heels about it.”

The bobcat comes closer to the window, but when Clint accidentally hits a plate against another in the sink, the animal skids away, frightened and shy, and disappears into the darkness outside. “Sorry,” he apologizes, and Steve smiles.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.”

There’s an awkward silence as Clint finishes cleaning some of the plates and hands them to Steve, before he decides to point out the elephant in the room. “You want to see it?”

He feels Steve tense beside him, decides to politely act like he hasn’t noticed, and continues scrubbing away at the ketchup Lila left on her plate because she always pours more than what she will use. Steve doesn’t answer immediately, so Clint speaks up again.

“I mean, it would take a little planning, but I’m sure you’d be allowed to see her,” he says, as he actively avoids looking at Steve, even though his reflection in the glass panel in front of him seems pretty obvious. Instead, Clint focuses on the blurred noises coming from the living room where Laura is trying to explain to Wanda the different between knit and purl stitches.

Steve finally answers as he puts the two plates away in the cupboard overhead. “I don’t know, Clint.”

Clint gives him the time to think about his next words, as he decides to pour out the no longer lukewarm water from the tub, and looks over at Steve, to let him know he’s listening.

“I mean- I don’t remember much except the crash. It was- it was terrifying,” he comments. “When the Quinjet crashed in New York, while the Chitauri were invading? It felt as though my entire body was going to give in, you know?” Steve pauses, as he takes a deep breath, turns around and rests against the wooden panel, while Clint rinses the tub. “Where is it, anyway?”

Clint replies as he shuts the water flow out of the tap. “Last place you’d think to search,” he answers, and waits for Steve’s reaction.

A couple of seconds go by, and Steve’s expression goes from thoughtful and concentrated to amused. “You’re kidding me, is that what the US Military is hiding in Area 51? Stark’s been going on about aliens for months-”

“Hah, actually, you’re wrong. It’s not in Nevada, though that was a pretty good guess,” Clint interrupts, as he chuckles. “Nah, it was too damaged to move that far. Here, come, I’ll show you where it is.”

As they leave the kitchen and walk into the living room, Clint smiles at Wanda who’s got a concentrated look on her face, wrinkles on her forehead and her tongue in between her lips as she tries to get the yarn in between the needles, while Laura looks on like the proud mother that she is. Clint walks over to one of the shelves on the far corner, and pulls out an Atlas. “It’s a bit old, but the maps are still pretty up to date,” he says, and points to the 2013 on the cover of it.

He scrolls through the pages, until he reaches Greenland, before walking back towards the dining room table where he puts out the large atlas. Greenland covers a full two pages, and Clint whips around as Steve bends forward, resting his hands on the table. Clint comes back a couple of seconds later with a pair of reading glasses sitting on his nose.

“Thought the Amazing Hawkeye didn’t need glasses,” Steve jokes and Clint very maturely puts out his tongue at him.

“The Amazing Hawkeye can’t see shit if he’s not wearing glasses when it comes to reading,” he replies, before picking up one of the pencils in Cooper’s pencil case that’s still lying around where the kid had been doing homework earlier.

“The Valkyrie was found here,” Clint says, as he points to a spot that he has apparently already pointed out before, as there’s a little trace of pencil near it already. “This is Cape Morris Jesup, it’s the northernmost mainland in Greenland, A.K.A the furthest North point in the entire world which is not in the middle of the sea. You crashed 16 miles away from that-”

“I was going for one of the Bluie stations,” Steve interrupts, and Clint’s head whips to the side as Steve continues speaking. “I remember, the talking in Brooklyn during the war, that we were setting up naval bases in Greenland, but I had no idea- I had  no idea where the hell they were,” he continues, and Clint feels a pang of sadness in his chest. He’d never thought that Steve had actually hoped to be found, that he had actually hoped to reach a friendly base.

“You weren’t too far, honestly,” Clint tries, as a comfort. “We just were really bad at Arctic conditions.” He gives a smile at Steve, as he pushes the rim of the glasses back up on his nose, before he looks back onto the map.

“This is where Thule Air Base is located, still today,” he continues, pointing to the map. “It’s still in use, but mostly for Defense reasons and because the Arctic Command is trying to figure out what to do with Global Warming and who gets the rights to which minerals and oils that may or may not be hiding in the underground up there,” Clint states quietly, before he nods to himself. “That’s where the Valkyrie is hiding,” he says. “Nobody ever goes there other than a few squadrons, because it’s one of the harshest bases on the globe. Like, I’ve been to Afghanistan and Iraq, and I’ll take the heat down there, both literal and metaphorical any day over the cold up there.”

He pauses, as he turns the atlas towards Steve so that Steve can have a better look at it. A couple of seconds later, Clint bends forward again, using the tip of the pencil to point out some key locations on the map. “This is Daneborg, which is the headquarters of the Sirius Patrol, and where they plan out their missions and other duties out on the ice. Here, that’s Mestersvig and here’s that’s Danmarkshavn. They’re both stations that are mostly used by Danish military and the Sirius Patrol, just like Station Nord, up here, which is the northernmost station used by the military in Greenland. There’s always 5 men up there, a bit more when the members of the dog sled patrol come by. It’s about 16,000 kilometres from one to the other end,” he explains, as he traces around the different locations on the map, letting Steve follow the pencil carefully.

“You spent how long-”

“Usually, the members of the Sirius Patrol are on duty for 26 months. Until recently they weren’t allowed to have wife or kids when they were up there, because of the long time they were gone, but that changed recently,” Clint comments, before answering Steve’s question. “I was gone 16 months, from November to February of the next year. I was the one who flew you home to New York,” Clint announces quietly, as he puts Cooper’s Avengers pencil back into the pencil case.

“Director Fury insisted nobody else fly the Quinjet,” Laura chimes in, and Clint turns around, removing the glasses from the rim of his nose.

“Have you been eavesdropping?” he asks, as Steve turns around too.

Laura shrugs, faking innocence. “Maybe,” she says, as Wanda smiles. “You were being so interesting with all your Arctic knowledge, and I couldn’t help but listen in on that,” she continues, before readjusting the yarn on her own needles. She’s knitting a beanie for Cooper. “Clint’s the best damn pilot SHIELD ever had, and nobody was going to convince Nick Fury that someone was better suited to fly Captain Rogers home to the mainland than Hawkeye.”

“I didn’t-”

“Please don’t,” Clint interrupts, before Steve can say anything else. “It was my honor and duty to do so. Don’t let that change anything,” he says, as he points to the couch, inviting Steve to sit down on it. “I volunteered to go, and I’m sure there would be a lot more appropriate SHIELD agents who would have given their right arm to do so too,” he comments. “I know Rumlow was trying to push for it too, when he heard about where I’d been sent up there,” he remembers. “Pretty glad he didn’t find you, knowing now that he was HYDRA.”

A quiet silence falls onto them, and Steve sits down next to Laura on the couch. “Nobody ever told me this,” he says, finally, as he motions over his shoulder to point at the atlas, by which he means the entire rescue mission. “I looked around in the news and in SHIELD’s files, but the names were all redacted.”

Clint takes a deep breath. “Well, you owe your awakening to a bunch of amazing Greenlandic sled dogs and the incredible team effort of generations of scientists and military personnel,” he comments. “I’m sure the Kalaalit people would love it if you went back, even if it’s just to see the Valkyrie once more.”

“You should go,” Laura adds, quietly, as she puts down the knitting project onto her lap and looks over at Steve. “You’re not training that much with the Avengers right now, are you? You could- you could go. It would take about two weeks, if anything. I’m sure Nick can figure something out, get you into Thule, so you can see the Valkyrie again.”

Clint looks down at his hands, as he sighs. “Peggy always said that we’d find you, that you’d come back. She was always so sure that we’d find you. I’m just sorry that we didn’t manage to get you home until…”

He trails off, and Steve understands. Until Peggy got sick. Until Peggy started getting really old.

“Well, there’s no need for that now,” Laura chimes, as Clint feels Wanda’s magic in his head, trying to ease him out of it. He smiles at her, then blinks a couple of times as he feels her red magic withdraw.

“It’s late, and the kids are going to school tomorrow, so we better go to bed or nobody is getting enough sleep.”

* * *

It’s a clear day.

The kids are in school - they’d driven out to the bus stop on the snowmobile, Lila sitting on Clint’s lap, Cooper hanging on tight behind him.

Wanda had watched them go after breakfast, and helped Laura take the remnants of breakfast off the table while Steve was jogging around the property - as much as he could with the high amounts of fresh snow. It wasn’t easy to run when it came to fresh powder, and Laura had insisted he wait at least until the sun had settled it.

Wanda’s hands warm up as they wrap around the mug of hot tea she’s prepared for herself. Clint’s own mug - with the Best Dad inscription on it - is also steaming in the cold air outside. He’d gone with tea as well, as he was feeling awake enough after the entire pot he’d had that morning.

Steve, back from his run, is helping Nathaniel build a snowman - so far, it seems that Steve is the one doing most of the lifting. She knows this is usually the case, especially from celebrations like Halloween or Christmas. ‘Can we carve the pumpkin?’ they’d usually ask, only for it ending up being Clint doing all the dirty work for them. ‘Can we set up fairy lights?’ they’d usually ask, only for it ending up being Clint on top of a ladder with pins in between his lips to hold the shiny purple, blue and green lights up. ‘Can we…’ they’d ask, and he’d always say yes. Every single time, he doesn’t care.

Wanda blows into her mug, and the steam shifts in the cold air outside as she listens to Clint’s mind discreetly. He’s remembering things, remembering laughter, and she knows he’s thinking back to his own childhood here, at the farm. She knows exactly the spot in the living room where his head had hit the floor hard enough for him to lose part of his hearing when he was very young, and she knows exactly which corner of the kitchen Clint has torn apart and redone because that’s where his mom’s bloodied hand had held her upright after his father had hit her with an empty beer bottle.

It’s not like she has no idea how he does it, but the knowledge that this house contains so many harsh memories for Clint… Wanda purses her lips, as she looks over at Clint, who catches her looking at him. “I did not know you had such an impressive record,” she says, as means of changing the subject in his head. “Medals from here, medals from there…” she jokes, and he laughs into his mug.

“It doesn’t really feel like it’s mine, though,” he answers, looking into his mug. “I mean, some of the military achievements are from before my time with SHIELD, but, half of them are sort of fake. Most of these things happened under cover names and fake identities, so it’s not really me that did it.”

She arches her eyebrow, and looks at him judgementally. “You did those things,” she says. “You saved people, took care of bad people, and helped society. It may not happen under the name Clint Barton, but it is still because of your actions that these things happened.”

She smiles, but feels the sentiment fade as Clint absentmindedly lets go of the mug with one hand and touches the center of his chest, as best he can through all the layers of clothing he’s wearing. She looks down at her feet, wearing moccasins Laura claims were made by two lovely Native Americans in Winnipeg. (Wanda isn’t absolutely sure she knows where Winnipeg is, nor why it matters).

“Loki was not you,” she forces herself to say out loud, and Clint realizes what he’s doing and goes back to holding the mug with both hands. He shrugs.

“I learned to live with it,” he mutters, as Nathaniel lets out a shrilling noise of fun, sitting on Steve’s shoulders as he tries to throw some snow on the top of the snowman. “I don’t think there’ll ever be a time when I don’t feel responsible for what I did when Loki was in my head. But I can learn to live with it, and accept that I did what I did, no matter how much it hurts.”

He points at Steve with his chin, as he takes a sip out of the steaming tea in his mug. “I’m just a circus kid who got picked up by the good guys. I’m not- I’m not Steve Rogers, and I never will be. He was- he is the definition of the good man, with the good heart. Even now, he’s fighting the good fight for what he believes must be done. I mean, I grew up with the stories of Captain America: there were musicals, school plays, documentaries and movies...  And now that he’s here, alive and- and-”

He takes a couple of seconds to regain his composure, then sighs right before he speaks again, hoping Wanda won’t notice his chin trembling slightly as he fights to keep the emotions reined in.

“I’m old and crooked and broken, after years in the field and after Asgardian magic, Wanda. If I ever believed that the good I did would ever live up to his legacy, I still don’t think I’ll ever manage to do anything great enough to be remembered like he will be,” Clint finishes, sipping his tea quietly.

She wants to hug him. She knows he’s practically old enough to be her dad, and that there are boundaries even then that she shouldn’t cross, but right this instant, all she wants to do is hug Clint. He deserves it. She closes her eyes and listens to the sounds around her, before putting the mug down on the icy porch they’re sitting on.

“You are doing good, Clint.” He avoids her by continuing to look straight ahead, so she kicks at him slightly with her foot, forcing him to look over at her, but his look is fleeting, and he ignores her again, suddenly more interested in the naked treetops over by the barn. “You are a good man, and a good father and husband. You are a good soldier and a good agent. You did good with your family,” she says, as she looks over her shoulder at the mosquito door that’s closed off in front of the front door, “You did good with SHIELD, and with Natasha, and with me and with... With everybody else.”

She feels his sadness, oozing out of him like an open wound, and she feels her own chin tremble as she remembers the pain of losing Pietro. When it happened, she didn’t know that Pietro had saved Clint by sacrificing himself. All she knew was that her brother was dead and she was not and that it wasn’t fair.

Sometimes, when she’s asleep, she dreams of the moment her heart broke in a million pieces and her magic annihilated every single Ultron bot around her. How she was going to die in Sokovia, in her home, until Vision saved her from the crashing meteor that destroyed her home country. How she didn’t want to go on after everything that had happened, because it had always been her and Pietro. And then, she’d seen Clint lying on that bench, keeping a fierce watch over Pietro’s body, blood over his hands and body and face, muttering about how the kid wasn’t supposed to die. About how it had happened in a flash. How he hadn’t seen it coming.

As Vision had put her down on the helicarrier, next to Pietro’s body, her gaze had crossed with Clint’s and, unhinged by the grief tearing through her, she had invaded Clint’s head with her mind, forcing herself through every door she could find to figure out why this old man, why this old man was alive and not her brother, and she’d seen everything. She’d pushed the doors open all the way back to years before, and Clint had let her. He’d let her storm through his mind, in an act of self flagellation that she felt wasn’t fair.

“When Pietro- when Pietro sacrificed himself,” she tries, as she controls her breathing so her voice doesn’t break and the tear sitting at the edge of her eyes won’t fall out, “he did so because he saw in you more than he could ever be. You do not get to choose who lives or who dies, you get to live with the chances you get. Pietro and I… When the Stark missile killed our parents, we thought we could decide who died. I thought- when I unleashed Stark, I thought he would pay for what he had done.”

She closes her eyes, and that pushes the single tear down her cheek, but she doesn’t wipe it away. “We were wrong. Everything that happened to Sokovia is our fault, it is my fault. Pietro thought you deserved to live, and he made sure you did when he pushed you out of the way.”

When she opens her eyes again, Clint is looking at her, with such a look of concern, that it just makes her break into sobs. She barely remembers her own father, but sitting here, talking about hardships and loss with Clint makes her feel like she’s sitting right next to her own kin. Clint puts down his mug and moves closer to her, extending his arm over her shoulder and rubbing her arm quietly as she cries into his shoulder.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispers into her hair, as he presses his lips to her forehead, consoling her best he can. “It’s okay, you’re good.”

She closes her eyes, but feels Steve’s worry in the outskirts of her mind, and although she can’t see it, she feels Clint shake his head, probably a nonverbal cue at Steve to continue playing with Nathaniel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, how are we feeling after this? Excited, right?!  
> I am still 100% convinced that Alexander Pierce had a hand in getting Peggy Carter out of SHIELD and you will never be able to convince me otherwise. 
> 
> Further readings:  
> \- The [Joint Arctic Command](https://www2.forsvaret.dk/eng/Organisation/ArcticCommand/Pages/ArcticCommand.aspx) is a military organization that deals with the surveillance and enforcement of sovereignty and military defence of Greenland and Faroe Islands, among other things.  
> \- Here's a [map of Greenland](http://www.nationsonline.org/oneworld/map/greenland_map2.htm) with most of the Sirius Patrol locations indicated.  
> \- A [BBC News article ](http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-15940985) about the Sirius Patrol and some numbers associated with the patrol itself.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, you guys ready to get this story going for real? We might get to see something soon...
> 
> Enjoy the reading <33
> 
> Individual Chapter Warnings:   
> \- None.

It has been a good week, spent at Clint’s farm. A good time to rest and to think of other things. Especially with Tony talking about selling the Avengers Tower in New York in favor of moving upstate with Pepper, among other things.

He’s found a spot in one of the debriefing rooms and has been sitting there for a couple of minutes already, having taken some books out of the library Tony has set up on the compound. Steve recognizes some of the young faces from SHIELD going by outside the glass walls, but mostly, he just stays concentrated on the files he has managed to dig up. Tony should be there in a couple of minutes, so Steve is taking the time to organize his thoughts.

He flinches at the knocking on the door, and when Tony makes his way into the room before closing the door behind him, Steve greets him with a laugh.

“You wanted to talk, Cap?” Tony asks, and Steve nods, lifting the file he’s currently reading up so Tony can see the title.

“Oooh,” Tony starts, as he walks over to Steve. “The file I hated the most while growing up because it was about you, and now you’re holding it! That is so meta.”

“Stark,” Steve interrupts, but he sees the smile on Tony’s face before he manages to scold him any more than that.

“Did you know Barton was involved?”

“I know a lot of things about the mission to find you, mainly because I must be one of the 3 most implicated people in the mission to find you. Nick Fury, Peggy Carter, Alexander Pierce, Howard Stark and… me. Oh wait, that makes five,” Tony says, as he turns the computer Steve has been working on towards him and taps a couple of times on the keyboard, finding some files on one of the online servers. “My father found the Tesseract off the coast of Greenland when he was still young, and I tried to find you by hacking into NASA satellites when I was in high school, just so that my father would shut up about you and your self sacrifice,” he explains, before going on, “Tried to finance my own expedition as soon as I became head of Stark Enterprises, but nobody wanted to back me up. Not that it would have made a difference since I was - and still am - a billionaire, but still. I was a bit miffed when Nick Fury sent word that they’d found you.”

“Barton’s the one that found me, with a companion of his,” Steve says, flat out, and Tony double-takes, then grinds his teeth shut.

“I was not aware of that,” he says through gritted teeth, looking at Steve and then at the screen. “How?”

“He was- he was on patrol with a Danish naval unit, on the ground,” Steve explains. “With a sled and sled dogs.”

It clicks inside of Tony’s mind when Steve says it. “Ah, see, that’s why I never found you! I hate the cold, I hate it. I grew up in Malibu, right, it’s always around 85 or more, and if it gets below that, I’m just plain uncomfortable.” He takes a moment, before nodding and allowing Steve to continue his story.

“He was gone for 16 months, on the team with a Danish soldier when they found the Valkyrie and reported it back to SHIELD.”

“And may I ask where they’ve put the Valkyrie? Because I know for a fact that it is not on US territory, otherwise I would have picked it up,” Tony interrupts.

“It’s at the Thule Air Base,” Steve replies, and Tony’s head goes up, then down, understanding.

“I see. You thinking about going to see it, then?” Tony asks, and Steve shakes his head, unsure.

“I don’t know- ever since Bucky pulled me out of the Potomac, I’ve been trying to find him again, but… I mean, I took a week and went out to spend some time with Barton and Wanda, and it didn’t make a big difference back here. Barton says it would be a two week trip if I did want to see the plane again, so I guess-”

“I think you should go see her,” Tony says, blatantly interrupting Steve in the middle of his phrase. “It’ll do you good, freshen up your mind. See something else other than the United States and our beautiful redneck countryside, seriously. You should go take some time off, and spend some time with Barton. I’m sure you could learn a lot from him, I mean, I know I probably could. I just don’t have that entire secret-Agent slash secret-Dad vibe going on about me,” he finishes, and Steve smiles.

* * *

“So, Tony says you’re talking about going to Greenland with Clint,” Natasha says as she walks into the kitchen, her damp hair sticking to her shoulders. She’s just been in a sparring session with Sam and Wanda, and as far as Steve knew, she both kicked ass and got her ass kicked.

Steve snorts. “Can’t keep his mouth shut about anything, can he?”

“Well, it is my job to get intel from people without them knowing I’m doing it,” Natasha snarks as she pulls one of the stools over, picks a bowl out of one of the drawers, fetches a spoon, and pulls out some cereal from a drawer under the cabinet sink. “Tell me,” she urges, opening the fridge and grabbing the milk out before preparing her breakfast.

“He told me the Valkyrie is at Thule Air Base, and that he was the one who flew me home. I guess, we talked about it for a while-”

“He showed you the map?” He nods. “And the medal?” He nods again. “Did he hate doing both those things as much as he did when he showed me?” Steve nods once more, and Natasha smiles. “He’s so humble, it’s adorable, really. Anyway, yeah, the Valkyrie is in Greenland. It’s off paperwork, off anything at all, so nobody knows it’s actually still usable. They found HYDRA weapons in the Alps and stuff, the ones you found on the Helicarrier, but only a few chosen people know that the Valkyrie is in Thule. It’s why nobody went digging up there after I spilled all of SHIELD’s dirty secrets onto the internet,” she says, as she pours the milk over her cereal and takes a spoonful.

“You were undercover while he was in Greenland?” Steve asks, and Natasha nods.

“Yeah, I was looking into Russian crime lords disguised as high ranking military leaders,” she says, crunching through the honey flavored Cheerios. “I was undercover for months, and was finally getting to the good stuff when...”

She takes a breath. “Well, Clint had gotten home with you in tow, and then he’d been sent to Project PEGASUS, and then Loki happened, and yadda yadda,” she explains, and Steve purses his lips, understanding the subtleties not being verbally acknowledged.

He had had no idea who Clint was until well after the Battle of New York. Well, not like that, but for most of Loki’s invasion, Clint had been on the enemy’s side. Steve had only talked to Clint when he’d asked which of him and Natasha could pilot a jet, and after that, fighting had broken out. He had no idea that Clint knew all the time that Steve was here thanks to him.

“He’d just come back with you, had only been home for three days before he went to PEGASUS. And after three weeks there, everything went bonkers. I’ve never seen Fury more pissed at himself,” Natasha says, as she stirs her spoon around in the cereal. “He’d promised Clint a year off if he brought you back from the ice sheet in Greenland. I mean, Clint did get a year off, but it wasn’t exactly because of… Well, he had to. After Loki.”

It’s still hard on her, Steve realizes. Clint had been her partner for years, and after Loki, after Ultron, he’d stopped being that partner she could rely on. Steve had replaced Clint, in a way, and he sort of blames himself for it, but he understands. Clint needed the time with his family, he needed the time to get better after Loki, he needed the time. He deserved it.

“So, you’re going to go, right?” Natasha finally asks, pointing at him with the spoon. He nods.

“I guess I might as well. The lead from Kiev you had didn’t amount to anything, so… I guess seeing some other scenery might make a difference.”

* * *

It’s quiet and dark out. The moon is shining, even though she’s only in her first quarter.

Cooper’s still up, in the living room, his head deep in his homework. Clint had asked if he could help, but Cooper had told him it was an English assignment, and Clint had smiled wryly and told him that he couldn’t help with that.

Clint had managed, while at SHIELD, to turn it into a recurring gag, honestly. Nobody expected him to turn in his assignments, since Phil or Melinda would always do it for him. Because he was too good, some people said, to sit down and fill out paperwork. Or maybe because he was injured, or whatever he had done gave him immunity against doing the paperwork. He liked it better that way, anyway. That people thought he just didn’t want to fill them out.

Not that he couldn’t. Well, he could, but with great difficulty. The letters in front of his eyes usually danced around, and the q and d and p and b all merged together, and sometimes he wished he could just make them stop. He’s found out that some fonts are worse than others, though, and ever since that distinction had become apparent, he’d made it his personal mission to change it in every single piece of documentation he had to look at.

Like the file in front of him. It’s one of the few files and mission reports he’s ever filed in full, and he hadn’t had the heart to show it to Steve when Steve had been here. He pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, before opening it up.

The first page is his own description, skillset, eye color, hair color, weapon of choice, and everything he hated listing about himself that made him sound like a horse for sale. The second page is the same type of description, but of Elias Søndergaard. His sled partner. Clint smiles fondly at the memory, and looks up when he hears Laura’s distinctive footsteps come up behind him.

She doesn’t say anything at first, but comes closer and hugs him from behind, bending forward to reach around his neck in a gentle embrace. She places a kiss under his left ear, before she straightens up again and strokes his hair, looking at the file he’s holding in his hand.

“You’re hurting again,” she says quietly, as she squeezes his shoulders and he realizes he’s been tensing for a while. He lets the tension go as much as he can, turns one more page, and reveals a picture of them both taken right outside of the Daneborg station.

They were going on the first trip that day, patrolling the Albrecht Sletten, an opening in the national geography, and it was their first trop after the winter patrolling they’d done together from November ‘til Christmas. They’d done 760 miles down and around Ella Ø and Mestersvig, down to the border between the National Park and the little peninsula known as Scoresbysund.

He sighs. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… the cold and age,” he tries to joke, as he takes off his glasses. “How’s Coop’?” Clint asks, and feels Laura pinch a little harder on the shoulder where Barney had shot him with an arrow, all those years ago.

“He’s on his way to bed soon, says he’s just got one more text to read,” she answers, as she moves forward to pick up the file. “Have you spoken to-”

“No, I haven’t. Thought I’d wait until Steve’s decided if he wanted to go or not,” Clint replies, as he rubs his eyes with the palm of his hand.

“Natasha wrote,” Laura then says, and Clint looks up. “She says that Steve would like to go see the Valkyrie, one last time. He wants to, quote unquote, see where I spent the last seventy years sleeping.” She chuckles, as she puts her hand on Clint’s shoulder, and he covers it with his own. “D’you think it’s a good idea?”

Clint presses on her hand, and fondly rubs her finger where she wears her wedding ring, before taking her hand to his lips and kissing it. “Yeah, I guess. I brought him home, I guess I should be the one to show him what I pulled him out of.”

Laura puts the file down as Clint stands up, turning off the light before following her into the living room.

“I think you should take him up there,” Laura whispers, as they walk past Cooper whose brow is furrowed in concentration. “For Elias’ sake.”

Clint looks up at her and smiles quietly, before stopping on their way to the couch and kissing her forehead gently, pulling her close to him as he embraces her. Sometimes he forgets how lucky he is, how Laura is his anchorpoint and if anything were to happen to her it would break him. He closes his eyes, as he feels her rub his back, and when he breaks the embrace he nods.

“It’ll only be around two weeks in total.”

“I know.”

“I have to talk to some people, and see if I can borrow one of Stark’s jets.”

“I know.”

“I promise it won’t be longer than two weeks.”

Laura doesn’t say I know for a third time, and Clint frowns. She points over her shoulder at Cooper who’s - not too obviously but still obviously enough for Clint to notice it - pretending to write something down, which means he’s eavesdropping. “Cooper says he wants to come.”

Clint lets go of Laura’s hand and sighs, amused. “Absolutely not.”

Laura nods two times insistently.

“Okay, maybe. I’ll think about it. But,” Clint says, looking over at Cooper now who has decided to quit pretending and is looking back at his father, “no promises! It’s dangerous up there, not because of people but because one mistake and you go through the ice,” he warns, and the grin that spreads on Cooper’s face almost makes him say yes immediately.

“Hey, Coop!” Clint calls again, as Coop shuts his workbook with a loud bang, “No promises, okay?”

“Yeah, dad, yeah. I heard you!” Cooper replies, and Clint looks over Laura who bites her lip, with a mischievous look in her eyes.

“Sorry?” she says, before pulling Clint’s head down so their foreheads touch.

Clint grins, moving towards her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Let me know in a comment, or on tumblr where I'm spectralarchers <33
> 
> Further readings:   
> \- None (can you believe it?!)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're getting into the heart of the story... Hope you guys are still excited for it and that I haven't turned it into a boring history lesson disguised as a Hawkeye and Captain America story. 
> 
> Individual Chapter Warnings:   
> \- None.

**FLASHBACK, October 2010**

**Copenhagen, Denmark**

 

He’s been in Copenhagen before. Not that many times, but he’s been here before. The airport hasn’t changed that much - and to be honest, it looks like all the other airports he’s ever been in. He has a little bit of trouble finding the exit, which is through the luggage claim, even though it is indicated by bright yellow signs overhead.

He picks up the checked bag he’s travelling with - his Mathews Apex compound and his Hoyt Buffalo recurve tucked into tactical gear, warm clothes, and anything else he’ll need is inside. He’d just had the time to go home and pack before being sent off on a commercial flight from O’Hare to Copenhagen.

He walks through the toll area, keeping to himself, but as he reaches the landside area of the airport his eyes are immediately drawn to the two officers standing slightly to the left with a sign that says “Søværnet”. His debriefing with Fury, Hill, and May consisted in brushing up on his knowledge of the Danish language and a little language guide to Greenlandic, so he knows enough not to be surprised by the extra letters that pop up everywhere in the words around him - different alphabets, he can deal with. A language that only has three more letters is odd, but he can work with it.

He throws the bag over his left shoulder and walks over to the two officers. One of them has two lines meeting above a half circle on his shoulder, while the other has a Danish flag embroidered next to a symbol consisting of a black dog inside a 6 pointed star, surrounded by a crown and a red circle. So, a corporal from the Danish Royal Navy and a member of the Sirius Patrol have come to greet him.

Clint extends his hand and is met with an equally firm handshake. Both of them are slightly taller than him, and blonde with keen eyes.

“Welcome to Copenhagen, Agent Barton,” the corporal says and Clint nods, before straightening up. “This is _fuppe_ Elias Søndergaard, and I am Corporal Thorkild Michelsen.”

“Agent Clint Barton, nice to meet you, and thank you for coming to get me,” Clint replies, shaking this Elias Søndergaard’s hand in the process.

“Let’s talk in the car,” Michelsen says, and both Clint and Søndergaard nod as they leave the arrival area of the airport. They exit through a revolving door and the cold bites at Clint. It’s October, and it’s cold as hell already.

“You were in the army?” Søndergaard asks, and Clint nods.

They’ve talked about this with his handlers at SHIELD, and even Nick Fury piped in. The less lies there were between a little number of people, the better, so instead of thinking up an alias, they’ve decided to go with the truth. Or as much of it as need be, for the sake of diplomacy. Impeding on Danish sovereign soil and getting nosey with one of their proud naval units is never fun, and it’s been decided that Clint should be as transparent as he can without risking their own national security.

He can’t say any names, nor any specific missions, but he can tell them what he’s done in the past if it’s vague enough to not give away anything telling. Which, to him, seems vague as hell.

“I’ve been with the US Army and the US Navy,” he explains, as the Corporal falls in beside them. Clint follows his lead towards the car as he speaks. “Actually a major in the US Army and a second lieutenant in the US Navy,” he brags, and sees that Michelsen smiles.

“We didn’t find any traces of Clint Barton in the United States Army or United States Navy,” Michelsen says, and Clint shrugs as he shares a look with Søndergaard.

“Well, undercover and stuff… SHIELD is very careful about who knows about us,” he explains, as Søndergaard frowns.

“Is Barton your real name?”

“Yep, my superiors opted for transparency,” Clint replies as they reach a black car, where Søndergaard pops the trunk open for Clint to put his bag. “They thought that we’ve lied enough to you about our operations in Greenland in the past, and that transparency is the best option when it comes to-”

“Finding Captain America,” Søndergaard says, a huge smile on his face. Clint can’t really tell if it’s sarcastic or actually impressed, but he doesn’t comment on it as Søndergaard picks the driver’s seat.

“Please,” Michelsen says as he motions to Clint, opening the back door and sliding inside the car. Clint imitates the movement, putting his backpack in his lap, and shuts the car door behind him. When they’re in the closed space, Michelsen immediately starts speaking again. “The _Slædepatruljen Sirius_ has been patrolling Greenland for seventy years, Agent Barton. When Captain Steve Rogers crashed the HYDRA ship on Danish sovereign territory, it fell upon our resources to keep it from falling into the wrong hands, and Sirius has made it one of our biggest and most secret missions to do exactly that. For years, the United States refused to work with us, insisting that the Monroe Doctrine was in effect and prevented them from interfering in European matters unless they were threatened. I ask you this now: what changed?”

Søndergaard drives them out of the parking lot as Clint gathers his nerves to answer as truthfully as possible. He’s jetlagged and honestly doesn’t feel like answering this hugely politically laden question now, but he has no choice.

“Things are changing, sir. The Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division has been monitoring what is going on in countries around the world. Ever since Tony Stark escaped that cave on the outskirts of Gulmira in Afghanistan, there’s been a growing threat. You saw the world change after 9/11, and you know well enough that it’s not just individual countries fighting anymore.” He takes a deep breath, as he zips open the bag he’s used as a carry on luggage on the flight. “You probably have heard of the Banner incident, which ripped New York apart as a result of the desire to replicate the Manhattan project, or you’ve heard about Doctor Chen Lu’s research for the People’s Republic of China, or even how Russia has reinstated the Red Guardian program. You know how the ministerial meeting of the Arctic Council back in May ended, and you know how it’s going to go from here. SHIELD wants to make sure that the ones who were responsible for the creation of the first Super Soldier are also the ones who get his body home.”

Clint stops talking, and looks over at Michelsen, and he can’t for the life of him read the Danish Corporal’s facial expression. Does he agree? Does he not? Instead, Clint looks over at the rear mirror in the car and sees Søndergaard’s eyes instead, and the glee he’s met with seems to indicate that he hit the right amount of buttons with his improvised, sleep-deprived speech.

As they pass through some smaller streets, Michelsen finally gives his reaction verbally. “You are right, Agent Barton,” he quips, as he looks out of the window of the car. “Things are changing, and it worries us. Greenland was granted uh- _selvstyre_? I don’t know the word in English for this-”

“Autonomy,” Søndergaard quips in.

“Greenland was awarded autonomy two years ago, which is a good development. But they cannot sustain themselves economically or militarily yet, which is why the Joint Arctic Command still enforces sovereignty on the Danish territories,” Michelsen explains. “Finding the Valkyrie, and maybe Steve Rogers’ remains, will help to calm international relations down. We know the Russians have been increasing missile testing in their Northern territories, and that Norway has moved its main military base to the far north of their territory, and that there’s whispers of including Svalbard in this Cold Rush for resources and ancient World War Two materials.”

Nodding as they drive over a bridge, Clint can’t help but agree. “Then let’s find Steve Rogers and bring him home.”

They’ve arrived, Clint realizes, when Søndergaard scans a pass through the window he’s opened and drives into the Royal Danish Naval Academy. He read up on it; it’s the oldest still-operating officers' academy in the world, and has existed for over 70 years more than the United States has existed, which blew Clint’s mind when he read up on it. Half of the things that are established in many parts of Europe and elsewhere in the world are so old that it seems almost impossibly rude to intrude on them… It puts his own history into perspective.

* * *

**PRESENT DAY**

**Avengers Compound, Upstate New York, United States of America**

 

It’s been awhile since he’s set foot in upstate New York. After Ultron, he’d said that if he ever came back, it would only be for very short periods at a time. He hasn’t been here for a long time, but he knows all the access routes. He’s helped Stark set it up - when Nick Fury used Clint to find the weak points of the Helicarrier, he’d done an amazing job, and that had rubbed off on Stark, apparently. Natasha probably pitched it to Stark after there had been a break-in at the compound, because she had asked Clint to go over the blueprints and pitch his ideas towards security features.

So, even though he hasn’t spent much time here, Clint is fairly sure he could find his way around unnoticed if need be. He’s like that, in a way. Needs to know at all times where the exit points are, and how everything works. It’s his built-in fight or flight reflex.

Sam’s the one to greet him. “Didn’t know you were coming in just yet, bird brain.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Sam,” Clint replies with a fondness, shaking Sam’s hand in the meantime. “But I’m not here on Avengers business.”

“I am aware, Tony is in an uproar about it,” Sam comments, and offers a hand to take one of Clint’s suitcases off of him. He speaks as he starts accompanying Clint to his quarters: “As soon as Steve told us that he would go and see the Valkyrie, Tony’s been upset. Not at you or anything, he’s just jealous, I think. Won’t be able to look at the tech, because he’s got the entire moving from the Tower in New York to upstate thing going on, so-”

“Barton! I can’t believe it took years before you told me you were the one who found this beefy dude in an icecube!” Tony interrupts, as he walks by them, followed by Vision. “Can I not trust anyone who used to be SHIELD? I mean, Fury? Not dead. Hill, not mine, Natasha, used to be Natalia, and now you? I know we’ve had our issues and all, but come on, Barton! You were the only one I could relate to!” he whines theatrically, adjusting his cufflinks delicately.

“Sorry, Stark, SHIELD’s a secretive institution, if you knew all we did you’d never shut up about it,” Clint answers, equally theatrically, as Sam laughs at the exchange.

Tony gives a last retort,  “Well, I’ve seen a lot of what you guys did, since Miss Widow leaked the SHIELD slash HYDRA files, right? Catch you later, don’t shoot anything!” and then returns to the conversation he was having with Vision.

“So, coming out of your retirement to bring an equally old man to Greenland?” Sam asks, as they’re walking by some training locales where young agents are enrolled in a lesson about something Clint couldn’t make out as they walked by. He snorts at Sam’s comment.

“I’m not that old,” he says before continuing, amused by Sam’s relaxed attitude, “and, well, I promised an old friend I would introduce him to Captain America when the time came, so it’s not really for me.”

“Way to be cryptic about it,” Sam quips. “We could use you, though, looking for the ghost who shot us all out of the sky and then saved Rogers’ ass in the Potomac.”

“Yeah, I know, the Winter Soldier, right? He shot Natasha a couple of years ago. Can’t help you out much though, I got some other things to do and all,” Clint replies, quietly. Shooting helicarriers out of the sky sounds too familiar, and he feels the cold in his chest again but before he knows it, they’re in front of the room he’s supposed to bunk in.

“You think you can spare Rogers for a couple of weeks?” Clint asks, as he and Sam roll in the suitcases he’s brought along. Sam nods.

“I guess so, I mean, as long as you don’t lose him for another 70 years, we’re good!”

Sam smiles as he gives Clint a brief welcome tour before leaving. Clint sits down on the neatly folded bed covers and looks around. The room is pretty empty, but he knows nobody but him uses it. He lost all of his memorabilia when the Triskelion was destroyed by a Helicarrier, much like he’d lost his entire life and job in the same disaster. The first mug he got from Coulson was destroyed, as were some of the things he brought back from his army days. It was all gone.

He looks around, searching for the remote to the television and flicking onto CNN news once he finds it. The Trial of the Century is going down, and it means a lot to him. When he hears a knock on the door, which Sam had left open, he says “Come in” without taking the time to see who it is.

It’s only when Wanda sits next to him that he realizes it’s her. The undertitles scrolling at the bottom of the screen are taking up most of his attention, and he turns the volume down slightly.

“Hey Wanda,” he says, glancing at her.

“How you doing?” Clint asks, and she shrugs. “Any news on the chemical plant?”

She shakes her head. “We are still unsure of who it is, and the attacks seem to be lacking a pattern,” Wanda replies. “How are you?”

“I’m- I’m doing good, I guess. I mean, considering,” he says, quietly, pointing at the television. “You been following the case? The People against Frank Castle?”

“I have, but only because every news outlet seems to be speaking about it. There has been talk about vigilantes and super-heroes being put on a leash,” she starts, and Clint nods.

“Ross?”

“Yes, he came by not too long ago and asked again where Bruce Banner was, but we still don’t know that either.” She looks up at the screen, which shows a screenshot from a livestream - Frank Castle’s face, next to a bullet point list of some of the charges he’s being charged with. “He must have been a very broken man.”

Clint nods at it. “Yeah, I guess.”

Wanda taps her thigh, and readjusts a lock of hair behind her ear, biting her lip. “I’ll- I’ll let you unpack. We can talk later,” she says, smiling at Clint, before getting up and leaving him again. She just wanted to say hi, was all, Clint thinks and he inhales as deeply as he can, closing his eyes as the sound of the CNN news reporter fills his head.

After a couple of seconds, he turns around, bends over to catch his bag, and pulls out his little laptop. As soon as it’s ready, he opens up the e-mail program and after a quick google search types up an e-mail addressed to Nelson and Murdock, attorneys at law. There’s probably no chance of them seeing this, knowing the trial has been pushed forward and that there’s probably a lot of pressure on them, but he guesses… Maybe their secretary, Miss Page, will see it. He doesn’t know.

He begins to write from one of his e-mails that don’t allow any replies, and writes what he hopes. For anyone to tell Frank Castle that someone was there the day that Maria, Lisa and Frank Jr were buried. That there was someone there who would have taken care of them when Frank couldn’t, and who wishes things hadn’t happened. Someone who visited Frank in the hospital after it happened, and who argued against the DNR. Someone who’s sorry that they can’t be there to testify, but there are no records of their work together. Someone whom Frank trusted enough to name godfather to his kids.

As Clint finishes typing up the email, he presses send and immediately shuts the computer, refusing to dwell on what’s happening to his old Army friend and what happened to his family. It’s his one fear, his one true fear, that the same would happen to Laura, Cooper, Lila and Nathaniel. That it would- that they’d- he dares not even think of it. If he does, he isn’t sure he’d be able to stop the tears.

He saw their deaths through Loki’s magic - he saw them dead and buried and broken, and he saw that it was him who had done it. He saw it as clear as he’s seeing the television now in front of him, and the illusion had torn him apart. When Natasha had knocked him back to himself, recalibrating his brain, he hadn’t even been sure of what was real and not. When he came back to the farm, when he saw Laura again, alive and warm and kind, he hadn’t been able to hold the tears back and she had told him that she would never leave him.

To be going through what Frank Castle is going through right now? He would never be able to survive it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're just going to pretend that timelines are wavy and things work out as they do, because my own timeline in the MCU is sort of wonky anyway.
> 
> How are you liking it? Still not bored by it? Let me know in a comment, leave a kudos, or hit me up on tumblr, where I'm spectralarchers :)
> 
> Further readings:   
> \- Here is [The Guardian Article](https://www.theguardian.com/world/2011/jul/06/us-russia-political-tensions-arctic) about the Arctic Council Meeting from May 2011.   
> \- The [Joint Arctic Command](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joint_Arctic_Command) is a direct Level II authority in the Danish Defence, that deals with monitoring the Faroe Islands and Greenland.   
> \- Nick Fury did use Clint to find the weak points of the Helicarrer in [The Avengers: The Avengers Initiative](http://marvel.com/comics/series/15502/marvels_the_avengers_the_avengers_initiative_2011_-_2012) prelude comic book.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many emotions in this chapter, I hope you guys are ready and that you will enjoy it <3
> 
> Individual Chapter Warnings:   
> \- Mention of surgeries on pets/dogs.

**FLASHBACK, November 2010**

**Aalborg, Denmark**

 

Clint has no idea how to pronounce this. ‘Værnsfælles forsvarskommando’ feels likes it’s two long words that are just unintelligible, and he can’t focus long enough to figure out how it’s supposed to be said. He stares for a while before he feels a little nudge on his shoulder. He looks down from the sign he’s been staring at, and sees Elias Søndergaard poking at him.

“Defense Command,” the Dane answers, and Clint nods. “It’s much easier to say, right?”

Clint has come to like Elias a lot.

It’s a long way from Aalborg to Waverly. After the first week, they’d hit it off pretty easily, especially when Clint had been able to show off his marksmanship skills to Elias, who was an equally good shot. Before joining the Sirius Patrol, Elias has been a carpenter, which he still was. He’d joined the special units forces after doing basic training for the challenge of it, and when he’d come back after two years in Greenland, he’d found a beautiful woman and married her within six months. He lives in Aalborg, which is why he’s invited Clint home. In Copenhagen, they’d both stayed at the officer school, but here, it feels much more familiar.

Clint follows Elias through the gated entrance and through another door, then another. “You’re going to meet up with the 6 other recruits that are going to Greenland in three weeks’ time,” Elias explains as best as he can, stuttering every now and then, looking for the words in English. “They’ve been training for 7 months and spent some time in Mestersvig during September and October, so they’ll be more accustomed to the cold than you are,” he continues, and Clint nods. He is in deep water here, and needs to keep his head afloat because he will be bombarded with a lot of information over the course of the next couple of weeks, before being sent off with Elias to one of the coldest places on earth to find a needle in a haystack.

“So, what are we doing today?” Clint asks, as they walk through another corridor and Elias points Clint forward. The last couple of weeks, Clint had gone through a weapon’s training, taken the Danish hunter’s license (in case they need to hunt for food in Greenland, he needed a Danish legitimate hunter’s permit since Greenland is a Danish territory), thorough firefighting training, and a sewing course as well as a cooking and kitchen hygiene course. All basic things - he’d learnt to light a match from scratch again, as apparently he’d been doing it wrong.

Well, all of the six other recruits had been doing it wrong too.

When they come into the room, all the six other recruits - Jens, Troels, Jørgen, Lars, Edvard and Mathias - are sitting around, some talking together, others sitting by themselves looking at one of their books. They’d been curious at first about why an American like Clint was suddenly being included in the training. Following Corporal Michelsen’s orders, however, they’d been briefed that he was here to go to Greenland with seasoned Sirius officer Elias Søndergaard on a mission of their own on top of their regular duties, because of the new developments near Cape Morris Jesup.

Surprisingly, all of them had been open-minded and welcoming to Clint, even more so after they’d done some weapon’s training together. Clint had been subjected to the usual foreign teasing by being asked to say ‘rød grød med fløde’ which seemed to be the tongue twister all Danes subjected foreigners to.

However, as soon as they all see Elias, all the six men stand up and straighten their backs. Clint walks over to the side as Elias preps them for the day’s training, and from what he gathers of the Danish explanation being given, there’s going to be something with veterinary knowledge and dogs. Which makes sense, given that the dogs are their engines for months and that they might need to operate on them for any number of reasons.

The briefing finishes, that much Clint gathers, when Elias walks over to one of the doors. He opens it and is suddenly greeted by two beautiful huskies. As far as Clint can tell, they’re Siberian huskies, but he isn’t sure - he’s not familiar with them.

Elias is explaining some more, and Clint is trying to understand everything going on, when Troels comes over to him to serve as a translator for what Clint can’t understand. “The black one has a bad tooth that needs to be removed, and the brown one has an injury in the back leg we will learn to set,” he says, and Clint nods, thanking him before coming over. He’s getting better at the entire Danish language thing, but he’s still pretty far from being fluent in the language.

Troels continues explaining for a little while: “These are Siberian huskies from civilians who have volunteered them to the program, Greenlandic dogs are not allowed to travel out of Greenland- a bit like- like Icelandic horses? For fear of contaminating the race?” Troels says, frowning, unsure if the words he’s using are the correct ones.

Clint nods, in understanding. “Yeah, makes sense.”

They both walk up as the veterinarian comes through the door and begins to explain the procedures to them as she completes them. Clint thinks he follows quite well, and at the end of the two surgeries Elias comes over to him to tell him that he’s impressed Clint understood most of what was being said.

Clint laughs. “I speak Swedish and German, so it’s a mixture of those languages, really,” he shrugs and Elias laughs.

* * *

**PRESENT DAY**

**Avengers Compound. Upstate New York, United States of America**

 

“So, Americans in Greenland, huh?”

Clint grins at Steve’s question. It’s more of a statement than it is a question, but Clint understands why Steve is asking it. He nods. “Yup, Americans in Greenland.”

“How can that be?”

They’re sitting on the pavement outside one of the many outside training areas. The snow has been plowed away, and some recruits are doing military obstacle course training. Clint and Steve had gone jogging, and even though it’s still early in the morning, Steve had lapped Clint at least twice. All in good humor, though.

Clint clears his throat and rubs his nose on the back of his hand, wiping away the snot that’s formed there because of the cold air. He sniffles before speaking. “You sure you don’t know this already? I mean, it happened during World War Two, you were there,” he says flatly. Steve nods, but doesn’t say anything, so Clint takes it as a hint to tell the story anyway.

Steve had made it clear he was going for one of the Bluie bases earlier anyway, but maybe… Maybe he wanted to know the full story.

“Well, I’m not sure if you know this, but the Danish Ambassador to the United States during World War Two decided he wasn’t going to take orders from occupied Denmark, and so whenever he spoke to American politicians or diplomats, he would do it on behalf of the ‘free’ Denmark. He thought that because the King and Government were being held prisoner, none of their orders mattered, and apparently we liked that a lot. Especially because of the Monroe Doctrine, I think- I- I think that was it. Because we got afraid that Nazi Germany would establish bases in Greenland, so when this guy, when this uh- this- Kauffman? Yeah, that was his name, it was a big deal when Kauffman came into the picture and said that he was giving the United States authorization to defend Danish colonies on Greenland from the Germans. He was sentenced for treason by everybody back home in Copenhagen, but it’s basically because of his agreement that we’re still in Greenland. He never put an end date on the agreement, I think they called it something like the ‘agreement relating to the defense of Greenland’ but I’m not sure on the exact phrasing. It just states that the American personnel can stay on site until- until- uh, ‘for as long as there is an agreement’?”

Clint rubs a pearl of sweat off his temple, as he takes a breath.

“The US Coast Guard and War Department established some weather and radio stations, and it didn’t really matter after a while, once the war ended. But, a couple of years after the German abdication, stuff happened - NATO, and other agreements, Denmark ratifying the agreement and everything. It made Denmark and the US closer allies. In 1951 though, the Danish and American nations forced native Kalaalit people out of their homes in Thule, because the establishment of the airbase was of “more importance” than them living there, where they’d been living for centuries.” Clint pauses, as he looks over at Steve.

“It was bad, man. Governments said it was on voluntary basis, but it wasn’t. Kind of like when we put the Native peoples of the Americas in camps and called it a good thing,” Clint spits, as he clenches his hands. “After all of that, Greenland became a key point in the Cold War. I mean they set up… They set up 14 bases in Greenland, Bluie West, and Bluie East. And then, when Operation Chrome Dome sailed around, they used Thule as one of the bases where they could re-fuel and load up the B-52s that would fly around 24/7. That operation ended in 1968 when one of the planes crashed.”

He pauses.

“In Greenland. On the - the indlandsis? The ice sheet? Right out of Baffin Bay, they think. They were carrying four hydrogen bombs aboard. Thankfully, there wasn’t a big nuclear explosion because the safeties prevented it, but the explosion caused the sheet to melt and a huge area to become contaminated with radioactive material. It also sank to the bottom of the ocean.”

Clint rubs his face and spits to the side.

“The clean-up, they called it Crested Ice, I think. I mean the plane crashed and burned, and there was a patch of blackened ice which was just- just huge, man. I’ve seen the aerial picture that was taken then, and it was terrible. Some documents which were released from the clean up revealed that plutonium contamination reached extremely high levels, and there was… It was bad, Steve. The workers who helped clean up were poisoned, and they still haven’t received compensation for their work.”

Sighing, Clint finally says the truth that he doesn’t want to tell Steve: “Part of the entire Chrome Dome operation and the Thule Air Base was to patrol the Arctic border to the USSR and to find you, Steve. ” Clint takes a deep breath, as he sees Steve’s head drop next to him.

“All of this- all of this effort, the deaths, the destruction, the energy, the money… I never wanted this,” Steve replies, and Clint chuckles, sad.

“I know, kid, I know.” It’s the only thing he can say right now, so he rubs his hands together and lets his own head drop as he watches the snow in front of them.

The silence hangs for a couple of minutes, and Clint lets Steve have this moment in peace.

“You- you said the Thule Base? That’s where the Valkyrie is?” Steve asks, as he breathes out, heavily, his breath condensing into a gentle fog in the cold. Clint nods. “The people they moved-”

“They were moved from Uummannaq to Qaanaaq. It’s not that far,” Clint replies solemnly.

“Do you- d’you think that-”

“That it would be a good idea to visit them?” Clint laughs, and at Steve’s frown, he shakes his head. “That would be like Buffalo Bill showing up at the Standing Rock Reservation to make them feel better about their fate,” he bites. “They don’t want anything to do with Americans, and barely even want anything to do with the Danes.”

Steve’s head drops again. “Why’d you spend so much time trying to find me?”

There’s a sadness in his tone, and Clint knows it. Why didn’t they just leave him there? Why couldn’t they just- why couldn’t they just forget?

“Well… Same reason I jumped into the freezing water of the Arctic sea to save Elias from drowning,” Clint says quietly. “Leave no man behind.”

Looking over at Clint, Steve watches as the elder rubs his knuckle with his thumb. It’s a quiet motion, but he understands. He’d forgotten that Clint used to be military before he was SHIELD. That mindset- it’s the same reason he went back to save the 107th. Why he would have walked across Nazi Germany to find his friends- to find Bucky Barnes. The pain of finding Bucky brainwashed into the Winter Soldier hits Steve again, and he nods at the view in front of them to distract himself, watching as the sun hits an angle that lights up the snow in that morning glistening sparkle.

“What was it like? Coming home? After- after all of this?” Steve asks, and Clint purses his lips, searching for an answer to that question.

He finally kicks a bit of snow away with his boot. “I spent so much time away from Laura and the kids, walking on skies and having nobody but Elias to talk to. He’s got kids too, so we talked about that. About everything and nothing, really. It was beautiful, one of the quietest places on earth, and still, it felt as if it could kill you at a moment’s notice. Coming home was- it was a stretch. The kids were just- they were just loud, you know? Just, so much noise…And so much stuff to do. Pick this cereal or that cereal. Help Lila with homework. Carry grocery bags and clean the gutter. It felt- it felt weird. It felt like how it felt when I came back from Afghanistan, or Iraq, or- or somewhere else.” Clint shudders when the cold kicks in as his body adjusts to not sweating anymore, but he doesn’t move. “I got sent to the PEGASUS location three weeks after I brought you home. Two days after that, Loki broke through the portal that the Tesseract created, and then- well. The man I was when I left to find you never really came back, did he?”

Clint doesn’t mean to sound so sad or tragic about it. However, he feels like it’s true. He left for Greenland to look for Steve Rogers, and came back, and everything changed. Aliens invaded New York, he was brainwashed by a god, and spent the next two years struggling to get better. To get over it. And while he was going through the trauma of coping with deaths and manipulations and nightmares and scaring his own kids by having night terrors… SHIELD crumbled from within. Clint gathers more spit in the back of his throat and spits it out, almost at the exact same spot as before.

“I never got over Loki,” he says, as he rubs the mark on his chest that Loki’s scepter left there, “And I still haven’t- still haven’t come to terms with SHIELD being destroyed. Everything I stood for? Everything I thought I knew? It all just- poof,” he explains, as he makes an exploding gesture with his hands. He looks over at Steve.

“Guess we both went into the ice and came back changed men.”

Steve gathers his legs up close to his body and wraps his arms around his knees. “After Wanda- after Wanda tricked us all in Johannesburg, when you brought us to the farm- I heard- I heard Peggy’s voice, saying that we could go home. I had this vision of me coming home from the war, and it felt wrong. Everything was wrong, even though I was with her and we danced like we promised.”

Steve lets a couple of seconds go by. “Ultron said that I was the man who thought he could live without a war, but all my life, that’s all I ever wanted to do. Fight for what was good, for the little guy. I gave my life for that good - when I put the Valkyrie down, I thought I was making the ultimate sacrifice. When I woke up, in that SHIELD room, I didn’t understand anything. Everything was wrong. I can’t imagine- I can’t imagine what you went through, Clint. What Wanda did to me, to Tony, Thor, Natasha, it was only for a couple of hours but you- you were under Loki’s spell for ages. I’m sorry we didn’t help you recover-”

“Hey, don’t, Steve. You didn’t know-”

“Don’t you dare, you said- you said you brought me back here. I owe you that much. During the Battle of New York, I barely knew who you were other than what Natasha had told me about you, what Fury and Coulson told me. And then, then you were gone- gone to somewhere we couldn’t know, somewhere Natasha didn’t want to share. I’m sorry we didn’t do more.”

“You did plenty already,” Clint replies.

He looks over his shoulder, and pushes himself up, offering his hand to Steve. Steve takes it, and stands up next to Clint.

“Let’s go figure out how to do this.”

* * *

Last Clint had flown out to Kangerlussuaq, he’d flown commercial. It had been one trip via the Reykjavik airport, with a 7 hour stopover before boarding the plane to the biggest airport on Greenland. He’d managed to rent a car for that duration and gone to see Heimaey, which had always fascinated him. The way the Icelanders had managed to control the lava flow with cool ocean water - it had been an engineering feat, and he had just needed to see it for himself. Well, that and Elias had told him that it was something he absolutely had to see - never mind the Blue Lagoon and the overflowing tourist traps, this was the real deal. Then, they’d headed back out towards the airport and made it to the coldest place he had ever set foot on.

This time however, they’re not flying commercial. Nor military, for that matter.

No, he and Steve are flying one of the Quinjets out from the Avengers base. Clint is in the pilot’s seat, Steve is in the co-pilot’s seat, and they’re both staring out at the vastness of the ocean before them. It’s been quiet in the cockpit ever since they left the Avengers mansion.

Clint taps a couple of buttons, flicks a switch on and turns his head towards Steve while unbuckling the belt from across his lap.

“You ever heard of the HMS Terror and the HMS Erebus?” Clint asks, as he thinks it might be time to break another secret to Steve anyway - he hasn’t mentioned it yet, and he doesn’t think that it’s in any records anywhere. Who would bother writing such a thing down? It had been of no importance to the writers, as it had been for the Inuit hunters then.

Steve shakes his head. “No, I haven’t. Not really, anyway. I suppose it does ring a bell, but I can’t place it.”

Clint shrugs. “They’re both ships from the Royal Navy, or vessels, really. They were used for Arctic exploration of the Northwest Passage, and they were lost in the 1840s? I think? Yeah, I think it was in 1848. Apparently, through history, people were unsure of where they had disappeared, and where Franklin and his crew died. Franklin was an English Royal Navy guy, and he was looking to explore the Arctic. So, the reason I’m bringing this up, is that the local Inuits who lived, hunted and knew the environment in Nunavut, apparently had seen these ships after they were abandoned. But nobody listened to them, so it actually took the Canadian government over a century and a half to find the ships again, which happened not too long ago, when they ‘found’ them.”

He pauses, muscles in his face tensing at Steve’s puzzled expression.

“That’s… sad,” is all Steve has to say, and Clint slides his palm across his face, having dreaded this conversation from the moment he had known it was something he’d have to tell Steve.

Clint purses his lips, and cocks his head to try and hide the internal turmoil. “There were stories, throughout the Thule people and the peoples having settled the furthest North in Greenland,” he starts, and looks down at the pedals in the Quinjet, anywhere better than Steve’s face. “There had apparently been stories about wreckage or a bright light which illuminated the sky the night you crashed the Valkyrie.” He pauses again, and waits for the ball to drop in Steve’s mind.

He can see the different stages Steve goes through as he does so: his eyes go dark when he realizes what Clint is saying. “They knew where- they-”

“They knew where you were almost from the moment you crashed,” he sighs and strokes his hair back across his head, nervous. He leaves his elbow high as he rests his hand on his shoulder and watches Steve. Clint wears a sad expression on his face, as Steve looks on, incredulous.

Steve stays quiet for a little while, before he speaks. “Well… At least now society is more open to listening to the Native peoples that live on lands we aren’t familiar with.”

The phrase breaks Clint’s heart, and he can’t help the words that come out of his mouth before they’ve left his brain: “I’m sorry, Steve. Nobody knew- nobody thought- the moment I talked to people from Thule and from Mestersvig and learnt what they knew- we did everything we could.”

The eerie quiet that falls upon the cockpit makes Clint so uneasy, he gets goosebumps just from the shame he feels from the story. He feels so mad, sad and angry at it: how could they not have believed those who knew the landscape and the land so well? How could they not- how-

Clint had chewed Fury a new one when he’d made it back to New York, with Steve Rogers in tow. Peggy Carter had had the coordinates for the Valkyrie for years, and she hadn’t done anything about it. Native Kalaalit peoples had known where the Valkyrie had crashed, some of them- some of them had even brought some of the wreckage pieces home to make them into decorations!

The first time Clint had seen a part of the hull engraved with Dorset-style animals and inscriptions… He had grown so cold inside he had been ready to go back to the offices of SHIELD in Washington DC, to interrupt whatever so-called important meeting Alexander Pierce was in, and throw him out the building.

“I think Pierce knew, too,” Steve finally says, his nose wrinkled in distaste. “I mean, it would make sense, right? He knew that- When Bucky recognized me on the bridge? I think it broke some of the programming inside of his… of his head.”

Clint is sort of following where Steve wants to go with this, and allows him to speak out instead of interrupting.

“I think- I think maybe if he knew where I was, and he had- and he had the Winter Soldier doing- I mean- toppling governments and breaking countries from the inside, if they found me, and Bucky were to- like on the bridge? Don’t you think?”

Clint nods, shoulders slumped as he realizes that Steve is probably right. Alexander Pierce was always the one who gave the final orders on the big missions, and it would make sense that he would have kept SHIELD from going to find the Valkyrie until he did… Until Nick decided to send Clint.

Clint licks his lips. “I think- I- I mean you’re probably right,” he finally manages to say, as he turns his attention back to the open vastness of sea that’s unfolding under them. They’re crossing into the Arctic Ocean from the Labrador Sea at any time now. He looks back over at Steve, brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s all he can manage to say, and in the quietness of the Arctic night which seems to swallow both of them up, he turns off the automatic steering of the Quinjet and takes control of the engine to keep his mind off the conversation.

The distraction fails, though, and Clint can’t help but think back, retroactively, at every decision that involved him going to Greenland. It had been greenlit quickly - Melinda and Phil had pushed for him to go so fast, he hadn’t believed it at first. And then, once he’d been sent off, he barely ever heard from SHIELD, barely heard from anyone up high. He was gone into the vast frozen open fields of the Arctic for months before he heard anything from the outside world but… the fact that Alexander Pierce hadn’t done or said anything to encourage or discourage them was… strange.

Maybe he believed that Steve would have known how to operate the Tesseract - or maybe he had hoped to use Steve in Project Insight… The Battle of New York had fucked those plans right up, Clint thinks, as he shakes his head imperceptibly.

To think that one of the men he had looked up to the most after Peggy Carter and Nick Fury had turned out to be a HYDRA agent- it had broken him and his entire world. Sure, Natasha had told him that Steve had been devastated to hear that SHIELD had been HYDRA at the core, but she had also seen Clint’s soul break into two halves. He was the reason why she was with SHIELD. Clint had been with SHIELD ever since he had left the army. He’d done hundreds of missions, killed hundreds of people for SHIELD, he’d tortured, interrogated, seduced, infiltrated… all of that for SHIELD. All of that for HYDRA, for Alexander Pierce, after he pushed Peggy Carter out of the office.

Clint had just gotten over Loki when SHIELD fell. When the helicarriers crashed into the Potomac. When the Triskelion was destroyed, and when the entire world saw his organization crumble. When Nick Fury _died_. When- when-

Clint takes a deep breath in the pilot’s seat. Now is not the time to think about all those things, he thinks to himself as he steadies his grip on the control wheel in his hands. He focuses on the green line of the horizon on one of the screens in front of him and makes for the destination he’d set into the Quinjet before leaving.

They’d packed their winter gear in the back of the jet, and set up a bunk each in one of the side rooms in the wings. Clint had no idea how they would be received in Thule, so he had done the precautions to avoid being too much of a burden for the military and civilian personnel there. Clint had found some of his old Arctic clothing, from the time with the Sirius Patrol. The jacket didn’t fit over the injured shoulder anymore, he’d realized, putting it on. Then again, it was a long time ago he’d been on patrol, and it had happened before Loki and SHIELD’s fall. His health had declined, in the aftermath of Loki’s mind control, and he could feel that he still wasn’t at his physical peak. Some of his heavier stringed bows were still a strain on his shoulder, and he knew that he would probably never reach his full potential again.

But then again… He still knew how to wield a sword and a knife, and that didn’t involve as much muscle tension in his back as pulling back the string of a bow did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexander Pierce was bad and I am convinced he was 100% bad but convinced he was doing a good thing. 
> 
> How did you like this chapter? Let me know in a comment before you head onto the next chapter <33
> 
> Further readings:   
> \- A [Danish site from the Danish Defence Command](https://www2.forsvaret.dk/uddannelsessite/uddannelser/Pages/Elite_Siriuspatruljen_i_soevaernet_forlob.aspx) about the Sirius Patrol's education/teaching process.   
> \- A [TV2 Øst videoseries](https://www.tveast.dk/siriuspatruljen-1?autoplay=1#player) about the Sirius Patrol where the scene with lighting the matches actually occurs.   
> \- A [2008 Daily Mail Article](http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1084557/Revealed-How-U-S-left-nuclear-warhead-lying-ocean-B52-crash-1968.html) about the Thule Air Base Crash of the B-52 bomber and the disappearance of nuclear bombs on the ice sheet.  
> \- The [Wikipedia article](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1968_Thule_Air_Base_B-52_crash) on the Thule Crash and Operation Crested Ice.  
> \- The [Wikipedia Article](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Terror_\(1813\)) about the HMS Terror and the clusterfuck it was when they 'found it' again even though Natives knew where it was.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, this is the chapter where it happens. I hope you guys are excited.   
> Because I sure as hell am. 
> 
> Individual Chapter Warnings:   
> \- Reliving of trauma / of crash.   
> \- Slight panic attack.

Thule Air Base knows they’re coming before they announce their arrival, and Clint guides the ground control through the process of setting down the Quinjet. It’s a heavy blizzard, and he’s had to turn on one of the features of the jet to avoid snow blindness - the sun isn’t high above the horizon at all by all means, but the lights from the Quinjet illumination the heavy snowfall is just… blinding. At first, they’d discussed the option of putting the jet down on Mt Dundas, or really _Umanaq_ , in the Kalaallisut language, but then had decided against it because going from the heart-shaped mount to the base would be too much effort.

Instead, they put the jet down on the the East and South edge of the airport, not too far from the landing strip.

It’s not a small feat. Steve knows best than to argue with Clint, whose brow is furrowed in concentration and whose grip on the wheel is firm. When a wind gust throws the jet backwards a yard or so, Clint steers it to the side, so the wings face the heavy winds rather than the front. Clint has steered jets and planes before, and he’s steered them in battle, but fighting a oncoming storm? It’s a whole different set of parameters.

When the wheels of the jet finally touch down on the ground, he settles the brakes in and closes the fowler flaps of the wings so they don’t get pulled up again. The three stands installed inside the jet go down and snap into the ground, digging deep enough to secure the heavy jet to the ground and keep it from flying, if it gets pulled by the winds which the anemometer seems to have given up on measuring.

The roads have been cleared from the heavy snowfall at least once, but with the heavy winds and the heavy precipitation, it seems as though getting from the Quinjet out to any of the barracks will be trouble. After discussing their options with Steve, Clint radios in that they’ll stay aboard the jet overnight or until the storm calms, and that as soon as the weather allows it, they’ll come out and greet the soldiers on the air base.

The patrols concur with the decision and wish them good luck, before giving instructions to radio in if any trouble should happen at all. Clint knows that Tony Stark has built these machines to withstand a lot, but even in this harsh environment, he wonders if everything will survive the biting cold that’s currently tormenting the hull. The wind is howling outside, blinding out any of the creaking noise that should be coming from the metal fuselage outside, and if it weren’t for a perfect isolation, the cold would probably give them frostbite before they could think about it.

“So, guess we’re sleeping here,” Clint says, to break the ice, and Steve nods, forehead puckered. “Stark’s tech is good, we won’t risk anything by staying inside the jet,” he continues, seeing Steve’s worry. When Clint walks over to the bunk he’s set up and watches Steve do the same on the other side, he thinks about the freezing conditions outside. There’s not much to do other than wait it out, but he’s rarely ever seen Captain America himself look so… distressed. He frowns, pulls down one of the woolly bedcovers that Tony has supplied the jet with, and throws it at Steve.

“Talk to me,” Clint says as Steve seemingly snaps out of it, looking over at Clint, nostrils flared.

“It’s- I think it’s- It’s everything,” Steve finally admits, and unbuckles one of the metallic chairs from the table and takes place in it. Clint comes over and pulls out some metallic mugs, placing them on the slightly indented slots on the table that’ll keep them from keeling over, what with the wind mishandling the jet violently. Steve’s eyes glance around the interior of the jet, before landing on Clint again. “The cold, the snow- I haven’t been in a blizzard in a long time. I think it was- I think it was seeing the vastness of the ice again, it felt like- it felt like I was going to go down into it again.”

Steve pauses and watches as Clint moves around the jet, familiar with its layout, finds a water boiler in one of the unlockable closets and turns it on. Clint looks over his shoulder at Steve, urging him to go on. “I’ve never seen- I didn’t think- when I fought the Red Skull and saw that I couldn’t steer the Valkyrie out of her trajectory, I had to put her down. The day was clear as clear could be, the sun had just come up from behind the horizon and illuminated everything that was white, split it into a million crystals. I had- I had Peggy’s voice from the speakers, and we- we talked like it wasn’t going to end. Like we could just resume our lives after I put her down, you know?”

Clint doesn’t say anything as he listens, head tilted slightly in Steve’s direction, as he pours some hot water into some instant coffee. It’s one of the better ones, a blend Tony has made custom from the Nescafé parlors somewhere, Clint honestly has no idea how or why that’s even a thing. He walks over to the table with the jug and doesn’t say anything as Steve goes on.

“I barely- the crash, it happened so fast. I was knocked unconscious when we hit, I think, or maybe it was the acceleration that knocked me out, I’m not sure. I woke up some time later,” Steve admits, wringing his fingers together, nervous. Clint notices a pearl of sweat on Steve’s temple, and pushes the mug of coffee towards him, letting Steve talk, afraid to interrupt the memories that seem to be coming back to Steve now.

“It was so cold, Clint. It was so fucking cold,” Steve mutters, as he looks down into the coffee, as if it would give him an answer to an unspoken question. “Everything around me was freezing, and there wasn’t much to see, except the ice around me. The windshield of the Valkyrie had survived, but all I could see was the ice cramming onto the little crack that was beginning to form on the glass, and I thought- I thought why I hadn’t died? Anyone else would have. I could feel something broken in my arm, something that hadn’t- something that wasn’t right, you know? But the cold, it was the worst of it. I couldn’t move, except my head, I couldn’t- there was nothing. Nothing around me but the emptiness of the ice, and I thought- I thought- I knew I was going to die alone. The HYDRA parasites, the bombs they had made for New York, Chicago, Boston- I mean, they were there, they weren’t going to be used anymore. And then, I had- I’d had the pocket watch with Peggy’s picture on the controls, but it wasn’t- it wasn’t there anymore.  It was the only thing I could think about. Where was the pocket watch? Where had it- I couldn’t bear it, Clint. I woke up, alone, cold and dying, and the only thing I wanted was to have one last look at her face before I died.”

Clint doesn’t look up from the mug. He’s sat down opposite Steve, but he knows exactly the feeling Steve had experienced. He’d done the exact same thing when he had gone back for that kid in Sokovia, expecting to save him from the oncoming bullets Ultron would have shot at him. And then, Pietro had taken the fall instead of Clint.

Rubbing the back of his one hand with the other, Clint looks up at Steve who’s looking over to the pilot’s seat in the jet. With the wind howling outside, Clint barely hears what Steve says next.

“When I blacked out because of the cold, it was the loneliest I’ve ever been. When SHIELD woke me up again, I didn’t realize that it could be worse than that.”

Clint isn’t sure if he’s supposed to act like he’d heard it or not, so he just takes a deep breath, and exhales as deeply before speaking. “That’s why Barnes showing up hit you so hard.”

Steve looks over at it, a shocked expression on his face.

“Now, I know everybody’s  been… touchy about it. But you’re- it’s written on your face the same way it’s written on my kids’ faces, or the same way it’s written on rookies’ face, Steve.” Clint feels like using his dad voice on Steve is cheating, but nevertheless, he does it. Because that’s what he’s good at: reassuring people that it’s going to be okay.

“You’re the man out of time. That’s what you are, and nothing will ever change that, no matter how many wars you fight, or how many allies you make along the way. Whatever you have to do to find Barnes, you have to find him. He’s your anchor.” He looks up from the mug and smiles at Steve. “I can’t- I can’t imagine what it was like waking up in an entire different era, and how it’s been to readjust. I saw something similar when I helped Natasha break out of her programming from the Red Room and helped her become a better agent… But what you went through? I don’t think there’s anyone else in the world, other than Barnes, who can understand what you’ve gone through.”

Clint brings his mug up to his face and tries to take a sip of the coffee, but when it touches his tongue he scrunches his nose up. He leans back over the chair and turns around, to reach into a drawer and pull out a set of spoons. He puts one down in front of Steve, before dropping his into the mug and beginning to stir the hot drink before he speaks up again.

“Bringing you back here to see the Valkyrie, I think- I think it would help you get over it. The technology in the Valkyrie is more modern than a lot of what World War Two produced, but maybe… Maybe it’ll help you remember that whatever it was you did, it happened. That it was real, and that there are actually- that there’s physical evidence of what you did, and that it’s not something you’re dreaming about, or that the idea of the crash, the mass media and history version of it, that won’t replace what you actually went through,” he says, growing quieter as he reaches the end of the sentence and brings the mug back to his lips.

He takes a sip of the not-so-steaming coffee and smiles sheepishly at Steve. “It’s a way to mourn whatever happened to you, and whatever has been happening to you ever since.”

Steve finally picks up the spoon and dips it into the coffee, and starts stirring his own coffee, remaining quiet, before he asks a question, quietly enough that Clint needs to cock his head to the side in order to hear whatever it was he was saying.

“Did you mourn? When SHIELD fell?”

Clint wets his lips, smacking them as the taste of coffee lingers on them. He leans back on the chair again, and puts his arms up, resting his hands on the back of his neck, stretching his back. “I guess,” he ventures, “Maybe? I think- I think ever since Loki got into my head and stretched everything that I was, I had… I had made my peace with SHIELD. I don’t think I ever expected to come back to it as an Agent, like Nick or Maria hoped, but I thought maybe- maybe if you guys would have me, I’d be with the Avengers. When you put down the helicarriers and stopped Insight from launching, it broke my heart,” he explains, drumming his fingers on the back of his head.

“It broke my heart to see SHIELD, to see what I had learned to love and people I had trained and gotten to know die and give everything for- for something like HYDRA. I look over my shoulder, every now and then and think about who was HYDRA and who was SHIELD, and I can’t tell the difference. I think that when Loki pulled me out, when the Chitauri invasion happened… It got out of my hands. Aliens? Gods? I mean, I’m an assassin and an agent, I’m not- I’m not-”

“You’re not me,” Steve completes, taking the words out of Clint’s mouth. Clint nods at the phrase, and a quiet sort of feeling falls upon the two men, only interrupted by the wind howling outside.

“No, I’m not, although I sometimes wish I had been,” Clint replies almost cryptically, before deliberately changing the subject. “We should get some sleep, if we can. If the storm subsides before the morning, they’re going to be knocking at the door before we even get up. They were very excited to see Captain America,” he says, quietly, before blowing on his coffee, almost invisible steam rising out from the mug.

Steve looks down into the cup with a shy smile and takes a sip of it. “Maybe coffee wasn’t such a good idea before bed.”

“Nah, I could chug a whole pot of it and I’ll still be asleep in ten minutes,” Clint comments as he chugs the end of his mug, and puts it back onto the table. “You should get some sleep if you can, Cap. It’ll be an emotional day tomorrow.”

* * *

The storm outside had subsided during the morning, blowing the last marine winds inland towards the icecap. Clint had had a bit of trouble falling asleep, but it had been nothing compared to the trouble Steve had gone through before he’d finally managed to fall asleep.

He hasn’t slept nearly enough when Clint lowers the ramp from the hull and down towards the ground, and when both of them, neatly enveloped in their arctic gear, hit the ground they’re greeted by a little conglomeration of about twenty people.

There are Danish soldiers, Steve recognizes, as well as American ones. The Danish flag is embroidered on the uniforms, and the American ones… Well, he can just tell.

He had half expected them all to crowd around him and to ask for a selfie the moment he set foot out of the Quinjet, but they’re all disciplined. One of the higher ranking majors steps forward and extends his hand to Clint, then to Steve, who shakes it firmly. He’s greeted by several others and they all express their thanks for his service, and the same to Clint. Steve is actually surprised at the reverence some of them show Clint, but then he remembers that, technically, Clint outranks him. Both when it comes to the US Army and the US Navy - and, besides, Steve had never really officially been appointed a Captain. When it had been time to make his Army clothes, they’d just put on the blazons that they deemed appropriate.

“We’ve been expecting you,” one of the Corporals tells them both, and Steve is happy to let Clint lead the conversation. He looks around and greets every single one of the men who comes forward to shake his hand - one’s called John, the next is called Mathias, the next one Robert, and then there’s a Jesper too… So many names. He tries to commit every face to memory though.

There’s two women in the crowd, a Dane and an American, who introduce themselves as members of the US and Danish Air Force, saying that they’re the pilots of each of the fighter jets the Thule Air Base is equipped with.

The entire group starts walking towards the North, and the creaky sound of their boots against the snow makes Steve forget for a little while why he’s here. Everyone is respectful, and listens to what Clint and the Corporal have to discuss, and the others simply walk quietly side by side with Steve, who’s listening to one Sergeant go on about how he has a tattoo of the shield on his thigh and that Steve was his inspiration to join the army because he couldn’t afford college anyway, and when they suggested he come to the Thule Air Base, he hadn’t hesitated because-

Steve blocks it out. It’s not that he doesn’t want to listen, but he knows where the story goes, so he takes in the amazing view of Mount Dundas instead, and stops up to take a deep breath. The icy, clear air seems to clear his mind for an instant, and he can almost see the beauty of living and working on this base. Almost.

“Steve?”

He looks over at Clint, who’s stopped up and is looking at him. Clint had been conversing about the Quinjet, apparently, with the corporal and the Danish pilot of the fighter jet, discussing technicalities about the manoeuvrability of the machine, when Clint had noticed Steve had stopped up.

“I’m- I’ll be right there,” Steve lies as he half jogs up to catch up with Clint who throws him a metaphorical ball to keep him focused on something else:

“You piloted the Quinjet too, how would you say it did last night, in the blizzard? Sergeant Lundgren was asking,” Clint says, cocking his head towards the woman whose eyes are as sharp as she seems lethal. She reminds him a little bit of Natasha and Sharon, in a way, and that thought makes him smile.

He answers Clint’s question, and the technical talk makes the walk up towards the jeeps go by faster, and when they stop in front of an enormous hangar, it suddenly hits Steve like a brick. The Valkyrie is in there.

And he doesn’t think he’s ready to see her just yet.

But, there’s no going back now.

He feels his breathing accelerate slightly as some of the men walk out in front of him, and Clint falls in line next to him. They both exchange a look, and when Clint nods, Steve knows this is absolutely it.

The huge metal doors start creaking, and before long, they’re rolling out of the way and the opening into the darkened hangar is opening like a portal into something that is a nightmare and a dream. Incandescent lights flicker on as all of them step inside, and then a mechanical whirring takes over as the metal doors start closing again. They seal the little sunlight outside in favor of the artificial lightning that, as the gasses inside the glass tubes warms up, gradually illuminates the casket in which Steve had slept for over seven decades.

In that moment, Steve feels like he’s going to throw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, do you feel the same way as Steve?   
> Steve is hard to write, as I've figured out doing this fic. I hope I didn't butcher him completely. 
> 
> Further readings:   
> \- None!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter <3
> 
> Individual Chapter Warnings:   
> \- Panic attack.  
> \- Character death mention.

**FLASHBACK, November 2010**

**Daneborg, the headquarters of the Sirius Patrol, Greenland**

 

They’ve got a week. One week to build the sleighs themselves. It’s an official duty, so that the men know their means of transport by heart, and it also means that they can repair it should anything happen to it while they’re out on the ice.

The main runners of the sleighs are made of waterproof plywood or ash wood, reinforced with 7 mm iron on the sliding surface, and the bottom boards are made of ash wood. Everything is bound together with a nylon line rather than screws and nails, so that the sleigh’s joints can move independently when they’re going on irregular terrain.

Clint learns quickly to make his way around the sled, and as per tradition, each team of 2 men has picked a color and a name for it. Elias and him have picked the color purple - something that had been a discussion point with the higher uppers, in that purple was not a color that was regularly used on the sleds, but then one of the men had brought up the Crown Prince’s own sleigh, which had been different too, and it had settled the argument.

All in all, the sleigh is about 100 kgs heavy, and the load when they will leave one of the deposit cabins or when they will leave from the headquarters will be around 400 kgs. They’ll have 12 dogs pulling it, each between 35 and 50 kgs each. The rule of thumb is that a dog will be able to pull no more than its own weight, so anything heavier than that will be impossible to move.

They’re sitting in one of the workrooms working on the collars for the dogs when Clint strings up a conversation with one of the other members of the patrol, Troels, who had been the one to help with translating some of the instructions during training in Copenhagen.

“You have dogs?”

Clint looks up from the dog chains he’s currently trying to twist into shape, and shakes his head. “Not anymore,” he replies, biting his lip with the effort it takes for him to tighten the tongs onto the metallic shape. “I used to have a labrador named Lucky.”

“Like the Britney song,” Troels jests and Clint almost chokes as he laughs out loud, letting go of the tool in his hand. Troels is working on hand-sewing the brace for one of his dogs, and looks up at Clint like he hadn’t just made the joke of the century. “This is the story of a dog named Lucky,” Troels continues, saying it on the tune of the Britney Spears song and Clint shakes his head.

“Yeah, I guess, man. He was a total sweetheart, saved my life, literally, before I saved his,” Clint explains and Troels nod, encouraging him to continue and keep going. “Had to put him down when he got old, though, I mean, he could barely walk at the end of it, but yeah, he lived a good life. How about you?” Clint then asks back, and Troels purses his lips, looking thoughtful before answering the question.

“I have three? Three dogs at home,” Troels says, as he turns some of the nylon fabric onto the side and bends forward to pick up the lighter that’s lying on the table in front of them, in order to burn and seal the strands of nylon together. “I had one, but then my fiancée- she had two, so now I have three,” he explains, shrugging quietly.

Clint picks up another piece of metal that he has to twist into an oval and brings it through the last mail in the chain he’s working on. “What kind where they?”

“Oh, øh-” Troels frowns, thinking of the word, “not a boxer, but another of the- the so-called dangerous breeds? They are forbidden in Denmark,” Troels says, grimacing at his phrase, “you Americans like cutting off their ears?”

Clint lifts his head, “Dobermans.”

“Yes, Doberman. His name is Tyr, you know, like the Norse God? He has a- he has one leg less, he has three legs, and Tyr is missing a hand, so,” Troels chortles to himself as Clint smiles at the pun, before going on, “Fie has a- a corgi? And a Great Dane she calls- she calls- It’s a word that means tiny, ‘bitte’, you know? And the corgi is named Fenris, you know?”

Clint nods. “We says Fenrir, in English,” he laughs and Troels looks over at him like Clint is a complete idiot, in a fun way though.

“You Americans anglicize all the words.”

A little pause happens as Troels stays still, thinking a question over, and Clint continues working, leaving him to decide when to ask it.

When he does ask it, Clint nods before the sentence is even out of Troels’ mouth: “You were in Puente Antigue when Thor came to Earth?” Troels asks, and Clint leans stretches his back as he nods again.

“Yeah, I was there. It was- he was- I mean, wow.”

Troels takes a couple of seconds before asking. “Do you really think it was Thor, the God from the-” he motions upwards, “the God of Thunder?”

Clint arches an eyebrow before he answers. “You know, there’s so much weird shit going on right now, I don’t know. But one second the hammer we were guarding in the middle of the desert was quiet and still on its little mount, and the next the skies opened up in thunder and this guy was standing there in shiny armor and literally burned what they’re calling the Destroyer to pieces.”

“Did you-” Troels’ hand goes to his throat, and Clint watches as Troels pulls on a leather string around his neck and pulls out a metallic shaped Thorshammer pendant. “Did you speak with him?”

“I did not, but I saw him fight. And man, like, he fought some of the people I’ve worked and trained with,” Clint starts, smiling at the memory. Coulson had thought Thor had fought in Chechnya or some other special forces division, but it had made more sense when they’ve figured out he was a God. “He went through them like they were toast.”

Troels remains quiet, as he pulls the needle through some of the nylon fabric, pulling with his teeth when the needle starts slipping between his fingers. When he speaks, he lays down the collar on his thighs and pushes the necklace back under his shirt. “When I’m not in the army,” Troels explains, “I work as volunteerer in medieval markets, yes? Especially viking markets,” he says, his eyes glinting with a happy sort of pride. “When I tell the buddies that I know someone who was there, they’ll lose their minds.”

Clint chuckles. “Can’t name me by name, though, you gotta promise!”

Troels laughs as well, before putting the collar he’s now done with down, and picking up a new thread of nylon and his paper with the measurements for his dog.

* * *

**PRESENT DAY,**

**Thule Air Base, Greenland**

 

The Valkyrie is huge.

It’s bigger than he remembers it, Steve thinks. Or maybe it’s because all the vehicles next to it look… tiny. He’d forgotten how huge the wheels were - taller than he is, and the mechanisms were just… He’s speechless.

Steve feels Clint next to him and at the presence he takes a step forward. The paint has scraped off of the front of the Valkyrie, and some parts of it have been torn apart or dented. He doesn’t have to imagine what caused the forward facing fuselage to bend inward like that, because Steve is the reason why it’s looking like that right now.

He remembers exactly how the crash felt. In his mind. In his body. In his bones. He remembers the sounds of the fuselage creaking and breaking and tearing, and he remembers the snow and the ice flowing to the side, and he remembers the seatbelt of the chair ripping off the joints and throwing him face first into the dashboard.

Steve closes his eyes and takes a step back, before feeling a hand on his shoulder as he hides his face behind his hand.

“I got you,” Clint’s voice breaks through, as Steve takes a deep breath. He can feel everything - the fight with the Red Skull, Peggy’s voice in the speakers, the cold of the wind outside, the beeping of the track in the controls, it’s all- it’s all coming back and he isn’t sure if- if-

“Can we get some space?” Clint says, loud enough that Steve manages to hear footsteps echoing away from him, and then he forces himself down on one knee, and then onto the other, and opens his eyes and he isn’t sure if he can do this because it’s too real and it’s going too fast and he can’t stop it and he doesn’t want to be here anymore he wants to go back and-

“Steve, listen to me.”

Clint’s face appears in front of him, blurring out the Valkyrie in the background, and Steve tries to tune in on Clint’s facial features. There’s a scar he’s never noticed by his left eye, and there’s wrinkles there too because Clint is older than he is, physically, and he’s here with him, and Steve is- Steve’s- Steve feels like this is ridiculous, he thought he would be able to do this, but he can’t and-

“Steve.”

Clint puts his hand left hand on Steve’s right shoulder and presses gently. The pressure seems to shut up the voice inside Steve’s head and he manages to focus on Clint’s words.

“Steve, take a deep breath. You’re good, you’re fine. She’s just a machine, she won’t suddenly burst to life or make you go through the trauma you’re going through again right now,” Clint says, in a low voice, but strong enough to make Steve focus. “Okay, Steve, breathe in now, breathe, breathe, come on kid, yeah, hold it now. Hold it, and let it out, as long as you can, until it feels like there’s no empty space left in your lungs, just- good, now, Steve, do it again. Do it again, in, through your nostrils, again, keep going, keep going. Alright, now, you hold it, come on, come on, and now- out, blow it out through your mouth, blow as slowly as you can- good. Okay, you feeling better?”

Steve nods ever so lightly, as he closes his eyes again.

“Alright, now I want you to listen to me, okay. Whatever is happening here, nobody ever needs to know. Nobody needs to see or hear that you saw the Valkyrie- nobody here will tell,” Steve can tell Clint is looking over his shoulder at whoever is listening in on the conversation because his hand on Steve’s shoulder moves ever so slightly. “It’s just you and me, okay? So, why don’t you, why-” Clint’s hand lets go of Steve’s shoulder and Steve opens his eyes to see Clint sitting on his ass in front of him, and the hand gesture Clint is making is inviting Steve to do the same thing.

“Just- just sit down, okay? Yes, that’s good.”

Steve lets do of the tension in his body and bends his back forward, as he lets his breathing take over again. He dares to look across the room and sees a couple of faces looking at him, but the emotion he is greeted with is not pity. Nor anger.

It’s understanding.

Clint says something Steve doesn’t understand, and the Sergeant- Sergeant Lundgren, he thinks- moves to walk over and comes back with a glass of water, which she hands to Clint before nodding at both Steve and Clint.

“Here, drink this,” Clint says, and the tiniest crinkle of amusement glimmers in Clint’s eyes, which makes Steve weary of the drink. When Steve refuses to take the metallic goblet, Clint brings it to his lips and takes a sip himself - one can never be too careful - and then Steve accepts it.

When the ice water hits his lips he almost spits it out again, and a grin spreads on Clint’s face as Steve looks at him eyebrows raised and face shocked.

“Indlandsis, the Ice sheet?” Clint says, motioning towards the big metallic gates they walked through a couple of minutes earlier. “The ice has been compressed for centuries that tiny, tiny air bubbles are caught in the ice, and when released in the water, it- well, it makes the whole drinking ice water experience a lot more interesting.”

Steve nods, finally understanding the amusement, and appreciating the little nudge of humor at his situation. As he chugs the goblet dry, he realizes his breathing has calmed down, and his chest doesn’t feel as sweaty as it did before. Exchanging a glance with Clint, he nods, and when Clint reciprocates and pushes himself up again, Steve looks over at Sergeant Lundgren.

“That was uh- that’s a neat trick, Sergeant” Steve says, trying to keep his voice casual, and when Clint puts out his hand, Steve grabs it and hoists himself up again.

“Glad to be of assistance, Captain Rogers. Please, call me Sidsel.” She watches him as he stands up and looks at the Valkyrie again, before walking over to stand next to him, cocking her head towards Clint. “You boys want the inside tour?”

Steve replies with a shy smile. “That would- that would actually be nice.”

Clint lets Steve and Sidsel walk ahead of him, and as he follows them he can’t help but let out a quiet sigh. He’s seen people have panic attacks that turn into bigger messes- he remembers how Natasha reacted when she was getting over her programming from the Red Room. How it fucked her up, the first couple of times. Clint touches his arm where her knife had cut through his muscles, and walks forward, listening in on the conversation Steve and Sidsel are having.

They’re talking about the snow, and the icy conditions up here. She knows, she says. She’s been there too, had to go out there with a team of sled dogs to rescue some of the soldiers who were working on the ice sheet for a data-mining assignment.

Clint looks down for a bit, as he takes a deep breath. He remembers too.

* * *

**FLASHBACK, North East Greenland National Park, location unknown.**

**February 2011.**

 

They’re snowed in. There’s absolutely nothing to see outside.

Elias and Clint had barely had the time to set up the chain for the dogs and get them chained up before the blizzard had hit them the hardest. From out of nowhere. It had come from the mainland, and had brought icy winds with it.

Clint has never been this cold before.

“So,” Elias says, as he puts down one of the cards he’s got in hand on the deck in front of them. They’ve set up the tent, managed to get it sort of heated up with the gas cannister located between them. “You use a bow, as your weapon of choice?”

Clint nods, as he rubs his chin at the cards in his hand.

“Yeah, I uh- I learnt it when I was a kid, and got really good at it. Never expected the bow to be something to worry about.”

He looks up at Elias and smiles when the other man nods, looking smug. “I didn’t either, but then again, I never expected someone to go after a polar bear with a collapsible bow.”

Clint chuckles at that, and Elias joins in on it, before putting down another card and lifting it up to his own set of cards. The quiet lasts a couple of seconds, before Clint clears his throat.

“You ever- you ever miss home? When you were here the first time?”

Elias nods. “I did, my daughter was born after I left, and when I came home she was getting so big. I missed her so much. Both of them,” he says, before looking up at Clint. “You miss home?”

“I do,” he answers, honestly. “I did two tours in Afghanistan, and one in Iraq. And I- I also did some undercover things for SHIELD, and everytime I thought- I thought, when I come home, she’ll be gone, you know? I keep going away, I keep spending time away from her, and from my kids, and now… Now I’m stuck here.” He motions around inside the tent. “No offence, though.”

“None taken,” Elias replies. “I get it, though. You never know which mission is going to be your last, and- and honestly? Death by polar bear- that’s just bad, right?” He laughs and Clint throws one of his cards in Elias’ face.

“No, but really. I appreciate you doing this. Again. A second time. I appreciate it.”

A gust of wind picks up outside, and they both look outside. They’d put down the dogs far enough away of the bear carcass so they wouldn’t start a fight, and were hoping to cut up the bear when the winds cleared, in order for the dogs to have something to eat in the next couple of days that wasn’t prepared or brought in from one of the little hunting cabins supplies laid in.

“When I get home, I’m gonna tell my kid that I’m not leaving again,” Elias says, next, as he takes Clint’s cards from his hand and throws the deck together, and starts mixing them up. “You can’t keep lying, you know? There’s a point where you have to stop going away and be there for your family. I’m a carpenter by profession… And I mean, if I could go out of this whole military shebang by helping you find Captain America. It would be my honor.”

* * *

**PRESENT DAY,**

**Thule Air Base, Greenland**

 

Climbing up the landing ramp, Clint looks around as Steve and Sidsel walk up to the cargo rooms. The bombs that it carried have been disarmed and destroyed, that much Clint knows, but he walks up to the flight deck. The chair sits untouched, but the blood that had splattered across the consoles is gone.

He remembers climbing through the hole in the fuselage he’d helped make, and came down to find battle damage, blood and… Clint turns his head towards where he can hear Steve’s voice from and sighs. It’s been so long, and yet, he still remembers perfectly how Steve looked. Asleep. A frown of pain on his face, as if the long sleep he had been in was through grit teeth, as if he hadn’t wanted to fall asleep. Even through the ice crystals on his face, Steve Rogers had looked like he was angry. And sad.

Clint puts his hand on the back of the chair, and looks around. The blood on the console is gone, but he knows exactly where it had been. Steve had bled on the console, from a wound Clint hadn’t been able to pinpoint. Whipping his head around he looks up, and sees that the fuselage he’d carved a square out of has been repaired by a neat smoldering job, and he smiles to himself.

He hears footsteps coming from the ladders from beneath him, and when Steve emerges onto the flight deck, Steve looks quiet and resigned.

The Valkyrie was his tomb for over 70 years, and now it looks like it’s ready to be put in a museum. In a way Clint appreciates that they haven’t brought it back to the Smithsonian. There’s already too many things in that Captain America exhibit for his taste, but the public… Well the public had liked it a lot.

“So, looks like you remember?” Clint asks, and Steve nods.

“A bit cleaner, but… Yeah.” He looks up at the top of the fuselage too, and points, before looking down at the hole the Tesseract had melted as it fell through and down into the ocean beneath the Valkyrie at the time. “Sidsel- Sergreant Lundgren went back to the ground, she thought I’d want to explore by myself,” he explains, and Clint nods.

“You- looks like it was when you found it?” Steve asks.

“Sort of,” Clint shrugs, as he lets go of the pilot’s chair and walks up to the console. “There was blood here,” he explains, pointing at some of the apparatus. “Your blood, you were injured but we- we couldn’t figure out where. And, here,” he says as he kneels and bends forward to point at the gap underneath the console, “is where we found your pocket watch. It hadn’t moved since the batteries froze in time, just like you.”

He stays quiet for a bit, as Steve kneels next to him too, and watches the spot. “I couldn’t find it, after the crash,” he says, and Clint nods. Steve has told him this already, but he will let him tell the story again if he has to. He doesn’t mind.

However, what Steve says next isn’t what Clint expected.

“He never made it, did he?”

Clint looks over at Steve, who is keeping his gaze averted, and Clint knows that there’s no point in lying.

“You told me- your partner, Elias? He fell through the water and you left him to get the dogs,” Steve says, and Clint motions with his head, ever so quietly. “You never said…” He trails off, and Clint appreciates him for not saying it. Not saying it out loud, because it happened on his watch. It happened because of him, and it happened because he hadn’t been able to do his job.

If he had been trained thoroughly enough, Elias wouldn’t have made it through the ice in the first place.

There’s a sharp intake of breath and Clint keeps his jaw clenched, teeth shut against each other, resisting the urge to go there mentally. He takes the few seconds he needs, and nods at Steve.

“When I came back, he was-”

Clint trails off, rubbing his thumb against part of the metallic waffle form shaped grid floor they’re standing on.

“We were so close to you. We had been circling for days, trying to locate the exact area your last known geographic coordinates were. He insisted we go out onto the ice sheet above water, to see if the Valkyrie had crashed over the ocean… I told him we shouldn’t. It was February, so the ice should have been solid enough, but the ice went- it brokes under the weight.” Clint pauses, as he remembers the feeling of seeing as the ice under his partner gave in, and how the icy depths opened up beneath him, swallowing him hole into a current that Clint knew to be stronger than he’d expect.

“I saved the dogs- carried two of them on my back, as I trekked back,” he says, sniffling, rubbing the back of his hand against his nose. He can feel his chin shivering, as the emotions bobble up in his chest, and when he looks over at Steve, he can’t help but feel the sadness burst inside of him, like seeing the Valkyrie is bringing back all these memories for him as well.

“He’d managed to pull up two of the dogs, shoving them back on land, trying to get them to- to pull up the things that were being pulled in by the current.”

He quietens, as he pushes himself to sit on his ass again, putting his arms against his knees as he pulls his legs up to his chest.

“He died of hypothermia three days later,” Clint explains. “We were both freezing, and we were so cold, so cold. The dogs died too, earlier than him, but the ones that didn’t come into the tent when they could to use their body heat to warm us up. It was- I can’t- it was horrible. His skin was turning blue, and nothing we did was helping him- I could barely move my own fingers, and he kept saying I had to take care of myself, I had to find you- I had to find Captain America and the world needed to know that he helped find you. He just- he stopped breathing, and his heart- his heart- it probably stopped then too.”

Clint nods, as he grips his left wrist with his right hand, to stop it from shaking.

“I was- I was supposed to be the one to tell his wife and kids,” Clint whispers, then, as he swallows the spit that’s been building in his mouth. “But then, they told me to bring your body home. Your blue and white body, frozen just like his had been, so they could- so they could revive you. And when I did that, when I asked Fury to go back and go to Elias’ family to be there, Pierce stepped in and said that I had done what I could. Done my duty, and all that bullshit-” he spits then, before hitting the stainless steel post in front of him with his fist in anger, lashing out against Pierce “- when you brought him down, when that HYDRA piece of shit died, I felt- I felt like it was all my fault. There’s kids and a woman, back there, who lost her husband and nobody knows why. Except you. Me. Fury. A couple few members of the military that are here today.”

This time, it’s Steve who puts his hand on Clint’s shoulder, and looks Clint in the eye to help him focus.

“You said- you said he wanted the world to know that he helped you find me, right?” Steve asks, and Clint nods, as he tries to get his breathing under control. One of his free hands go to the middle of his chest, and Steve’s eyes flicker down at the movement, before speaking again. “The world can’t know. But I know, now, Barton, yes?” Clint nods again, twice, then three times, as Steve speaks again. “Before we go back- before- instead of going back to base, we should go see Elias’ family. I’m sure she’ll appreciate that. I’m sure their kids will appreciate that.”

It feels so strange to have their roles reversed like this. Just a couple of minutes ago it had been Clint making Steve breathe easy, and now it was the other way around. Steve looks around him, and pushes himself up again, taking Clint’s hand by force and forcing him to stand up too. “Look at the mess you made,” he comments, and Clint looks down to see that where his fist impacted the steel… he left a bloodied mess.

Clint snorts at that.

“Couldn’t have you have all the glory here,” he says, as he dries his eyes on his shoulder, and blinks a couple of times, to rid his eyes of any signs of tears.

Steve nods, then, and motions for Clint to head down the ladder again, and back onto solid ground, out of the Valkyrie.

Maybe- maybe Steve hadn’t been the only one with demons buried in the millennia old snow in the coldest place on Earth.

* * *

Every single person on the Thule Air Base wants a picture with Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, to take home. None of them get the opportunity, because nobody dares cross the Sergeants, Lieutenant and the Captain himself.

Clint has made sure that none of this goes viral- all mobile phones are off limits on the base anyway, so it’s not really any different from the rest of any single given day.

It’s when they sit down for dinner that a young employee on the base walks up to Clint and points at Steve.

“You found him? _Sikuvoq_?”

Frowning, Clint takes the time to look the young man over, and when he manages to put a name on his face he smiles. “Yeah, I found him!”

Clint stands up and walks around the table to greet and hug the young man, before putting his hand on his shoulder. “Steve, this is Saamualik! He’s one of the boys who was on site quickest when we radioed in that we’d found the Valkyrie!”

Saamualik extends his hand towards Steve and smiles. “You are the American. We call you sikuvoq, here,” Saamualik says, and Steve looks over at Clint who urges him to ask with a nod of his head.

“And what does sikuvoq mean?”

Clint smiles widely as Saamualik answers proudly: “It means frozen. We call you frozen, like the ice- like sermerssuaq.”

Saamualik looks at Clint before sitting down when permission is given to him and Steve smiles. The young man has got a strong accent and doesn’t seem particularly good at the English language, but he is enthusiastic and there’s absolutely nothing reserved. From the uniform he’s wearing, Steve deduces that he isn’t military.

“You helped bring the Valkyrie here?” Steve asks, as he puts his fork down into the food they’ve got on their plates. It’s imported goods from the United States mixed with local meat that the hunters in Thule share with the base. There is still an enormous amount of resentment of being moved from their ancestral homes in order to give way to a military base, but the market and traffic between the US military and their hunting gives them a nice income.

Saamualik nods, as Clint walks over to one of the tables with plates and fills it up for him. Coming back and putting it down in front of Saamualik, Clint explains, since Saamualik seems to be waiting for him to explain. “When we found the Valkyrie- when- when we found you and Elias- and I lost my partner and my dogs, I managed to radio in my location. They couldn’t dispatch any airborne means of transport, so they sent word to the Thule people near and around the Air Base if they could cross the indlansis, the Ice Sheet, to the location I was transmitting from,” Clint explains, as Saamualik whispers things into his ear as he speaks.

Clint chuckles at a comment Saamualik makes, and translates it to Steve. “He says that the dogs caught wind of American blood and strained harder in their collars, because they wanted to taste American blood. As payback for moving their owners’ ancestors,” he says, all in good faith. Saamualik nods as Clint finishes the translation then says something again that Clint sits and translates best he can, frowning when the words mix together in his mind.

“When he saw the Valkyrie though, he says he chained up the dogs, because nobody who had been in that machine or through what we were through deserved to be eaten, but deserved to be rescued,” Clint says, giving voice to Saamualik who nods and sits there with the biggest grin on his face. Clint pokes at Saamualik’s shoulder with his elbow and motions at Steve with his index finger.

“Can sikuvoq sign? For my father and grandfather.”

He lifts up a black and white picture of two men and their sled dogs, and hands it over to Steve. Saamualik and Clint exchange some words in Kalaalit, although Steve can hear that Clint is making an effort on the accentuation, and when Saamualik nods, Clint smiles before pointing at the picture.

“They were some of the first on site when the B-52 crashed with the bombs, too, and they were with Saamualik and the other hunters when they crossed their lands to find you. They’re too old to come out and greet you, but they would be honored if Captain America could sign their picture,” Clint explains, as he picks up a piece of meat with his fork and puts it in his mouth, leaving Steve to it.

Steve stays quiet for a while, admiring the two men in the picture and their dogs. He does a quick headcount and makes it to 23 dogs that he can see, but he suspects there are probably more on the picture he can’t see.

He looks around for what Clint thinks is a pen, so he pulls one out of his breast pocket and hands it over, before Steve looks at Saamualik with a smile. “It would be my honor. Could you tell them that I am thankful they were there, and that they crossed their land to rescue someone they didn’t know?”

Clint makes sure that Saamualik understands most of what Steve said, and when Steve writes the same sentence down on the picture and hands pen and photo back to their respective owners, Saamualik bows his head, before reaching into his pocket and handing Steve an engraved piece of bone.

“It is bear, I made it,” Saamualik manages to say, as he points to himself with his hand. “Dorset,” he explains and Steve picks up the little pendant carefully. He looks over at Saamualik as he looks at the engravings - there’s the Valkyrie, or an artistic rendition of it anyway, and a shield much like his own, and then, there’s some mountains and engravings Steve can’t interpret.

“What do these signs mean?”

“It is the sky, as it illuminated when you crash,, sikuvoq,” Saamualik replies, and Clint nods, taking over when words fail the young man.

“The sky lit up when you crashed the Valkyrie. There’s an old Greenlandic legend about two shooting stars that will hit each other and illuminated the entire sky in a rain of light, and it was said that when you crashed the Valkyrie, a lot of local peoples thought that it was this legend come to life,” Clint explains, quietly, as Saamualik takes the time to have something to eat. “His grandfather went out looking for whatever had caused it, but returned home empty handed. Saamualik told me that this pendant is one his grandfather made when he returned from that trip, and he believed that what he had seen deserved to wait for better times, since the second World War had just ended.”

He pauses, as Saamualik downs his glass of water and Clint looks over his own shoulder back at the men and women sharing the dining hall.

“You were a legend here too, Steve. Not in the American sense of the word, but in the mythological sense of it, because nobody believed what had happened. Until they brought you back home, until you woke up,” Clint says, with a proud smile on his face. “Your legacy in these lands goes deeper than you thought.”

Saamualik puts out his hand when he’s done with his plate and as Steve shakes it, he stands up and walks away, looking down at the photograph he carries in his hand proudly. Steve motions to him with his chin. “What does he do on base?”

“They hired him as a janitor for starters, but when they learned he could deal with a full set of sled dogs and was one of the few locals who was interested in helping the military, they upgraded his job. He still likes talking to everyone, though, it improves his English,” Clint comments, a fond smile on his face, and Steve can’t help but think about how relieved Clint must have been to see another human face when he had been in the Valkyrie for days, alone with his dogs.

Steve remembers that Clint must have kept Elias’ body with him too, to bring it home to his loved ones, and he loses the smile. Clint’s own smile wavers as the same thought probably occurs to him, but he pretends as if it didn’t. “He’s a good kid, and he wishes to go to New York one day. He wants to see the world you stood for, and he wants to tell his grandfather and his father that he saw the land Captain America came from. Today though, I’m sure he’ll go home and tell them that he met you and that they made you proud.”

The two men exchange a glance, and continue eating their lunch undisturbed by other autograph or picture hunters, and when they’re done, they discuss the rest of the plans for the coming days quietly, before being joined by the officers in charge for a tour of the base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it. Let me know in a comment before you go on to the next chapter <3
> 
> Further readings:   
> \- [ of two Sirius Patrol members in front of their sled. \- If you speak Danish and want to read a GREAT book about Greenland and the Cold War, ](https://images.sn.dk/0/523900_605_0_0_0_0_0_2.jpg)[Baser, Grønland og den kolde krig](https://www.saxo.com/dk/baser-groenland-og-den-kolde-krig_jens-zinglersen_paperback_9788771530742) by Jens Zinglersen is amazing. He was on the Thule Air Base for a while, and was one of the first people on site after the B-52 crash.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cuter chapter here, I think. You will probably enjoy it <33
> 
> Individual Chapter Warnings:  
> \- None.

Clint and Steve spend the rest of their days in Greenland walking around the base. It’s mostly a quiet couple of days, as they’re surrounded by military or trained personnel, and no incidents occur that are out of the ordinary. They're always followed by a group of three or four people, though, tailing them like fangirls and Clint jokes that it's worse than New York at one point. It isn’t, but the young people and fans get the message when one of their superior officers tells them to lay off the visitors.

On the fourth day, Saamualik suggests they go out on a sled dog ride with him. He’s headed out on the ice sheet anyway, needing to do some measurements for the global warming research the base has volunteered for, and he wants to bring both Steve and Clint with him.

Clint isn’t sure if it’s a good idea at first, remembering his last experience with a sled and sled dogs. He hasn’t really thought about it since… Well, since Elias.

Steve manages to convince him of doing it anyways. Therapy, he’d called it. In the end, it had been Saamualik’s teasing which had convinced Clint: he looked so lost without the dogs here, and Saamualik was sure Clint would enjoy feeling the wind and the cold on his face.

Clint meets the sled dogs. It's a party of 10 dogs.

They're all fluffy and beautiful and some of the more amazing dogs Clint has ever seen - strong and sturdy and their ears flop right up when they hear the three of them coming closer with their collars in hand. They’re laying in the snow, calmly taking in the sunlight that’s gleaming down on them, their noses mostly covered in fresh snow. They all shake it off as they stand up and begin to nag at Saamualik. If he’s carrying the collars, it means they’re going for a run. And going for a run is what they live for.

Saamualik teaches Steve to put on the collar, patiently, guiding the legs of the dog through while helping Steve hold the fabric correctly so that it takes less effort to get the tram ready. Clint's fingers remember the movements as if it had been just yesterday he’d done it the last time. He remembers the best way to pull the front leg through, tightening the strap and pulling the other one through, and fastening everything on the back. It just felt natural. He’d done it every other morning and every other evening when he’d been on the ice looking for the Valkyrie, and he’d learnt to do it with his eyes practically closed. After all, setting up a sled in a blizzard was a feat, and he had to know exactly what he was doing when he did it.

Each of Saamualik’s dogs have an assigned collar with the name engraved on it, and they all fit perfectly. It’s a hand embroidered work, very reminiscent of the Dorset culture and some of the beds that are decorating the collars are homemade. Saamualik brags about his grandmother being one of the few who remembers how to make beads the old fashioned way, and both Steve and Clint express their admiration.

Steve learns to do it by himself after the fourth dog, and when Saamualik gets going too, the ten dogs are all set up and ready to go within minutes. Saamualik shows Steve around on the sled, and explains that the strands have to be untangled every day at the end of the trip or they won’t be able to get anywhere the next morning, when frost and ice has settled on them and makes it  impossible for Saamualik or the other hunters to manipulate the rope. It gets frozen solid, Saamualik says, and he can’t do anything until it unfreezes. Which, in these conditions, can take a long while.

Sitting down on the sled, Clint leans to the side as Steve sits next to him, as Saamualik yells the dogs into a running start. The moment the dogs hear their non verbal cue, they begin pulling and the sensation goes right to Clint's gut, whose smile spreads across his face. Sure, dashing through the snow on snowshoes or on skis, with the impossibility of seeing farther than a couple of feet had been hell, but days like these? Days when the sun was high on the horizon and when the dogs were more than happy to pull and do their job? it felt more than perfect. It felt absolutely fantastic.

The runners of the sled dig deep into the freshly fallen snow, but as soon as the dogs gather enough speed, the sled jumps forward again and they're off, going into the white horizon. Clint feels his heart beating like that of a child, and when he looks over his shoulder at Steve, the biggest grin on the man's face only makes his own smile that much wider. It's pure joy - there's nothing like it. The sheer adrenaline of the dogs pulling, the sound of the runners creaking through the snow… As the landscape runs past them, ice cap and mountains covered in snow running along the fjord that the glacier has dug in the ground, Clint can’t help but remember seemingly similar landscapes he passed on the other side of Greenland. There were crevasses, deadly traps and their treading on thin ice had been common thing and it was never clear whether they would go to bed dry or wet, hungry or cold. This ride is different, in that Saamualik will bring them back to base, and that they have a walkie talkie with them to radio back to base if anything should go wrong. Clint has no doubt that there’d be a squad out looking for them the moment the radio went off.

They can’t lose Captain America in the cold again, can they? That’d be ironic.

Saamualik runs next to the sled, sparing the dogs his own weight on the sled for the first yard or so, and as soon as the dogs exit the trafficked areas where a car or another vehicle might cross their road, he lets himself down onto the sled. There are no specific stop signs here, no turn left or right, no cell phone service, nothing more than the sky above and the ice in front of them. They are at the edge of the world, and for once, it feels absolutely wonderful. The quiet, the silvery quiet of the ice and the snow, with nothing to disturb it, nothing but pure, white crystals in front of them and the sound of the dogs panting as the creaking of the sled leads them on.

Leaning forward, Clint puts his hand on Saamualik’s shoulder.

“Your grandfather would be proud,” he says as he looks back at Steve, who is gazing up at the sky with a serene look on his face. Poking at Saamualik with his elbow, Clint motions to the whip in his hand with a nod of his chin, and when Saamualik nods back with an equal smile and an expletive in Greenlandic, Clint leans back to put his hand on Steve’s arm, to get Steve’s attention through the sound of the sled.

“Want to try and steer the dogs for a while?”

Clint motions to the whip and when Steve eyebrows meet in a downwards facing frown, Clint laughs out loud. “You don't hit them with it, you just whip it so it cracks in the spot you don't want them to go.”

Steve stays quiet for a couple of seconds as he weighs the pros and cons of saying yes and his own abilities in not accidentally hitting the dogs.

“Sounds fair,” Steve exclaims as a reply when Saamualik pushes himself off the sled into a run, and invites Steve to do the same. With less weight to pull, the dogs strain a little less on their collars and Clint feels the shift in speed before pulling his scarf up above his chin in order to enjoy the quiet around him. The cold air almost freezes in his lungs, so it’s important to keep himself from breathing the icy air directly. He can feel his eyebrows freezing up, but it’s a good kind of feeling - like when the car window is open and he’s driving in the darkest of night and it’s so cold he could scream but it makes him feel so alive.

That’s one of the big differences between here and home. Although Greenland has months of almost complete darkness, even in the sun never breaches the horizon in winter time, it is never completely dark, for the light of the moon and the stars reflect on the white plains and lights up the ice sheet like a fluorescent carpet. Clint remembers the first couple of nights back in the city, back in Iowa, when the night fell and everything got freakishly dark. He couldn’t see anything - couldn’t make out the edge of the trees, the horizon, nothing. And, he remembers, he’d suddenly been missing the ever glowing light of the ice, which came him a sense of security, even in the darkest of night.

He hears the whip on his left, and looking back over his shoulder, he sees Saamualik, who is entertaining a good jogging speed, followed by an equally jogging Steve who seems to be enjoying the run. Saamualik has handed the whip to Steve, who is practicing swinging it from left to right. Saamualik motions for Steve to try and use it, and when Steve throws it forward and the whiplash echoes on the vast plain, the dogs immediately veer right.

Saamualik encourages the dogs with a few yells, and then asks Steve to do it again. When the dogs steer too much to the right, Steve makes the whip lash onto the right side of the sled,  which puts the dogs back on course, going straight for one of the mountains that seem to have survived the glacier’s slow travels downwards to the sea. Clint looks forward, but feels the sled sink deeper into the snow when Saamualik sits down on it, lifting his winter boots off the ground to keep it from creating friction.

“Sikuvoq is a natural,” Saamualik says with a smile on his face, pride filling his chest. Clint watches with amusement as Steve makes a practice run again with the whip, and he nods. Steve passes the sled with that super soldier jog of his and laughs when one of the dogs barks out at him, as he catches up with them, surprising it by suddenly being next to them and not behind them. He isn't supposed to be there. “Lead dog?” Clint asks, barely suppressing a laugh, and Saamualik nods, equally amused.

“She does not like new people,” Saamualik replies as he yells out the command for the dogs to stop up. It takes a couple of seconds for them to obey, and as they do, both Clint and Saamualik get off the sled, catching up with Steve. Steve's breath is crystallizing, and he looks slightly out of breath, but his eyes are focused and Clint is happy to see that this doesn’t seem to faze him.

“My god, we broke the super-soldier,” Clint teases, before Steve turns around and laughs as he hands Saamualik the whip again.

“He's even broken a sweat- wait, I need a picture for Sam!”

Clint has his phone out of his pocket before Steve can complain, and he poses for the picture, middle finger raised and smiles at Clint’s camera.

Saamualik moves off to the side and orders the dogs to sit with the command they’re trained to follow, and he walks some feet to the right, unfolding one of the fabric pouches he’s picked up from the sled. Clint and Steve follow him in his tracks, and watch as he does his job - it’s clear that Saamualik has done this before.

He explains to Clint in Greenlandic what he does, so Clint can translate for Steve: “He’s going to make a hole down into the ice sheet here, and mark down the location with a GPS signal. It’ll save the coordinates of the core sample, which will be brought back to base and sent to Canada, so that scientists can analyze fine particles and other components in the ice. The pollen that’s trapped inside the air bubbles in the ice reveal a lot about the climate at the time the snow fell, and through that information, scientists can assess what sort of climate there was here hundreds and thousands of years ago. Saamualik says that some scientists dig deep, longer than a kilometer, to get some of the oldest ice, but he needs to do surface samples, to measure how much change human pollution has caused up here,” Clint manages to explain. Many of the words Saamualik uses are English anyway, and he suspects that this isn’t the first time that Saamualik has had to explain his work.

“The Arctic is one of the more affected areas of global warming, but since it’s so scarcely populated, it doesn’t seem to impact on the rest of the world as much as draughts, fires and hurricanes do,” Clint comments, making sure Steve knows that he’s not translating anymore. Saamualik has quietened down and is working on extracting a core sample with a drill Clint has never seen before.

They return to base a couple of minutes later, as Saamualik packs away the core sample neatly in a sealed and temperature regulated container.

* * *

They’re back in the quinjet before Steve realizes it. The days have gone by so fast- so many new faces, so much new information and new problems he wasn’t aware of seem to have taken up all of his attention, and it’s only after goodbyes and military salutes and more pomp and circumstance than he’d wished for, that he realizes how exhausted he is.

He’s done military visits before. He’s been to World War Two veteran meetings, and has actually spoken to some of the soldiers he fought with in the war. He’s done speeches for Veterans, and been on television as well- nevermind those recordings the Ministry of Education wanted for high school classes which were just… bad. He hadn’t been able to talk them out of it, though, and Fury had told him it was good PR for the Avengers.

Right up until SHIELD fell, anyway.

Clint’s sitting behind the controls again, and Steve is more than glad to let him steer the engines out of the Air Base. He doesn’t interrupt the communication Clint is engaging in with the control towers, but as soon as the frequency zeroes out, Steve sighs. Clint pulls off the headset and frowns, looking over at Steve, questioningly.

“You ever- You ever miss your family while you were out here? At the end of the known world?” Steve asks, and Clint feels immediately that the question has been nagging Steve for a long time. It has though. Ever since they went out on the ice for no more than a couple of hours, Steve had been wondering how Clint could have made it for over a year. How the members of the Sirius Patrol could do it for more than two years. Sure, they would go back to base every year in summer when the snows and the ice melted, but it still felt like a huge commitment. Nobody other than their partner to speak with, no distractions other than the game of cards they carried or drawing smileys in the snow when they went to pee.

Clint slides his hand down his face, before smacking his lips, searching for a reply to Steve’s question. He frowns, as he finally decides to nod. “I did,” Clint says, “I missed them so bad. There were days where it hurt so bad it made me want to cry- just to be near Laura again, you know? But I think more than anything it was the fact that there was no possibility to contact her. No internet, no texting, no mail- there was absolutely nothing. I mean, Elias and I could be roaming around in Greenland for weeks, and we wouldn’t have noticed if the Third World War had broken out. There were so many things we missed out on while we were gone, but it made us laugh when we discussed what politics or what other shenanigans had happened while we were up there, playing cards and yelling at the dogs to shut up in the night. But yeah, no, sometimes, I wished that I could have gone back home, and not be so damn far away, you know? There’s nothing up there, other than the man you’re working with.”

He pauses, as he turns around, and bending forward, he opens up a little drawer near the pilot’s seat and pulls out a family picture that’s dented and bent out of shape, the folds having turned white. It’s the same picture he carried with him when he fought Ultron. The same picture he pulled out of his boot right after Natasha knocked him back to his senses after Loki. The picture had been with him the entire time he had been under Loki’s control, and never once had he let it slip that he had a family. He’d told Loki some of SHIELD’s secrets, he’d given up some of the Avengers’ weaknesses and created an entire assault plan on the Helicarrier… But he had kept his family safe. That had been his number one job, as an infinity stone nagged away at his brain, rotting parts of it to leave him gaping like a fish out of water when he came back-

Clint shakes his head and lets go of the memories of the scepter and the mind stone. He feels a tingle in his fingers when he does, but ignores it, handing the picture to Steve. “We were trying to get pregnant, before I left, you know? When I got back, I had three weeks before Nick sent me off to PEGASUS, where they were keeping the Tesseract and testing it. I had three weeks, that’s it. I hadn’t seen my wife in over a year, and when I came back, Nick sent me off to be a walking, talking surveillance camera for him. When Loki came through that portal, I was so angry. Because it took less than five minutes for Loki to undo everything- all he needed to do was put down his scepter here,” Clint points to his chest, “And I was his own flying monkey.”

Clint pauses, as Steve hands him the picture back. Clint folds it and puts it discreetly away into a pocket in his uniform. “When I got home, after New York, after Loki, after everything… Everything went straight to shit. I was barely able to get back to it- I scared my kids, I scared myself. Sometimes I’d yell at the kids for ridiculous things, and I was so scared that I would turn into my father. That I’d lose it and hit them, you know? It was my worst nightmare, after I came home. To give in to the hurt and the pain and everything that made me wrong in my head, and just- just take a drink, or two. Or three. That’s why I don’t do it anymore, not unless I’ve got a public image to entertain.”

Clint lets the quiet settle in, as he watches Steve carefully. “I can never pretend to understand what it must have felt like to wake up in an entirely different world, but I think- I think I can understand coming home to things having changed and never being able to go back to what you had. When the wormhole opened over New York- when aliens invaded- I mean, it was just… For me that was it. I can infiltrate secret police base camps, or kill a target through the scope of a sniper rifle, but aliens? Sentient robots? That’s just… That’s just too much for me, man.”

Steve nods.

“That’s why you retired,” Steve comments, and Clint nods.

“Mostly why I retired,” Clint corrects. “I mean, I’m getting old, Steve. I’m younger than Stark, and I still feel that much older than he is- and, don’t get me wrong, I know that it’s because he’s had a life of privilege and healthcare and good doctors to take care of him when he was sick- I was broken and battered when SHIELD took me in, and the injuries were just waiting for an excuse to catch up.” Clint huffs slightly, as he taps his shoulder, where Barney’s arrow had pierced his flesh and grazed his collarbone.

“I’m fucking old, man,” he chuckles, as he shakes his head, refusing to give in to the actual feelings he is feeling: useless. Broken. Of no more good use. Like a broken tool that’s just good for the trash. Clint forces himself to smile.

“You’re not that old, though, Barton,” Steve says, with a nod. The sort of nod he’d give a fellow ranking officer in the military- a respectful nod, and Clint smiles. “You gave more than enough for the world, you’ve given your life so that innocent people could walk through the streets safely. I know for a fact that Natasha respects you more than you think she does. She brags about your moral compass, and how you always keep to what you think is right. I wish I could be better at those sort of decisions,” Steve finally admits, as he turns his face towards the glass panel in front of them.

“Coming home, coming back, after all this- it feels like I’ve managed to put it behind me. The Valkyrie, the crash… Peggy, Bucky. Everything I was grasping for when I came back, it’s all gone. All I can do now is look forward and try to find Bucky again. After he pulled me out of the Potomac- I mean, he’s like my brother, Clint. I suppose you’d feel the same way about Barney.”

Clint nods. “Barney’s an ass, but I get where you’re coming from. It’s something you can’t explain, unless you’ve had a brother or sister of your own. Whenever you need me to be there, Steve, let me know, right? I mean, not just for now, but if trouble starts brewing. I feel like there’s a shit storm coming on, the kind you feel coming from miles away. If there’s anything- anything with Wanda, or Nat, or the rest of the team, let me know? I know I promised I’d stay away but…” He shrugs. “If you need me, you know where to find me,” is all he says, as he turns back towards the front of the jet, and places the headpiece back onto his ears in order to take contact with the Canadian authorities, as they’re entering Canadian airspace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment, a scream, some yelling or something else before you head onto the next chapter <3
> 
> Further readings:  
> \- None.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, this is the last big chapter on this fic, and I hope you've enjoyed it. I really hope I haven't bored you, because that's something I've been afraid of all while I was writing it, and I really hope that you guys learnt something new while reading this fic <3
> 
> Individual Chapter Warnings:   
> \- None.

They’re going through the pictures on his phone. Clint is jokingly explaining some of them, as Wanda points out to things happening in them- one picture of a soldier flipping the finger at the camera, a selfie with Sergeant Lundgren, some pictures on the ice sheet during their sled ride with Saamualik.

Wanda has been curious about the entire trip, and has been listening to Clint intensely. She hasn’t seen much of the world, yet. Sokovia had been her entire life, and she had barely ever left it- after the events of the recent years, Johannesburg, the United States- she’s still a rookie when it comes to travelling, and hearing some of Clint’s stories from places lost in the middle of nowhere… It makes her think about what Ultron could have caused. The destruction she could have been the trigger for, and it makes her sad. She was this close to annihilating the entire beauty of the human race, just so she could get back at Tony Stark for creating a weapon that killed her parents.

She had wanted revenge, but for all the wrong reasons. As Clint scrolls through the pictures, he reaches some of the ones he’s received while he was on base. There’s new pictures of Nathaniel, and his finger hovers over the touch screen before going on, and Wanda feels his mind softening at the sight of his youngest son.

Clint speaks before he manages to scroll onto the next photo. “I need to retire, Wanda.”

It comes seemingly out of the blue, but she can’t help but know that it was coming eventually. She lets him speak, as he scrolls to the next, which is a selfie of Laura in the kitchen where Nathaniel has spilt an entire bowl of tomato sauce all over the counter. Then to a picture of Cooper with a bruise on his elbow and chest where he’d been tackled at school while they were playing football with friends.

“I need to- I promised Laura would be the last thing. I can’t keep going away,” he starts, as more pictures appear on the screen, and Wanda understands. These are things he should see in person. Not through a picture. “I’ve been gone so long- I barely remember how it feels to be home for more than a year. After New York, SHIELD fell, and then Ultron happened- I was never really home for all of that. I had to do this, and that, and help and- I want to see my kids grow up and graduate, and have kids of their own if they want that, you know?” He smiles at a selfie Lila had taken without her mother knowing and sent to Clint.

Wanda sees images inside of Clint’s head, and when she realizes it’s what he hopes, what he wants to happen, her heart fills with something she can’t explain. It’s the ideas that Clint has about his kids growing up, and holding a grandkid, of seeing Lila graduate and get a degree, of being there for Nathaniel’s first football game, of celebrating his 25 years with Laura, of-

Wanda shuts her eyes and it shuts the flow of images she can see. Clint looks over at her worried, but when he realizes what has happened, he smiles, apologetic. “Sorry. Didn’t feel you in here,” he states, but Wanda just smiles back at him, with the same shy smile.

“I should not be looking.”

“You should not, and yet, here you are,” he admits, and although it sounds like he’s scolding her, Wanda knows he’s teasing. There’s nothing she hasn’t really seen before- when she went through his mind, on the helicarrier, as he had kept a watch over her brother’s body, she’d seen everything Clint was, is and will be. She’d seen every single thing he felt ashamed of, proud of, afraid of and more.

“I told Steve that he could call, if anything ever came up, though,” Clint finally says, as he presses the lock button on the phone, and the image of Lila disappears. “But, I don’t think it’ll happen any time soon. You, on the other hand, should train with Steve. With Natasha. Like you’re doing now- get better at using those powers you have, learn to tackle someone without them, and learn to blend in like Natasha does. Not everyone here wants you here, and not everyone will protect you like we do.”

She knows what he means. There are online forums and vitriol in the media about her, about her being in the United States despite not being a citizen, despite being what some people call a mass murderer and a freak. She knows, so she nods. “I will not let anyone harm me,” she says, more for her sake than Clint’s.

He beams, when she does. She reminds him of Natasha so much, he knows exactly why he bonded with her. Why he felt the watchful eye over her, in the midst of a battle she had caused. Why he’d felt like he needed to protect her.

* * *

**FLASHBACK, February 2012,**

**16 miles from Cape Morris Jessup, Greenland.**

 

It’s been 16 months since he’s seen his wife and his kids. It’s been 16 months since he’s had a good night’s sleep. And it’s been 16 months since he’s felt at home.

Up here, everything is cold and white and terrifying. Every single crevasse is a death trap. Every single step he takes in the snow could take him to his grave and keep him there, perpetually frozen until someone stumbles upon his corpse. There’s barely any sun, too. It’s been dipping higher and higher over the horizon, and Clint is good at counting the days, so he knows they’re almost two weeks into February now.

Valentine’s Day is tomorrow, he thinks.

The past couple of days have been unbearably rough for him. He hasn't been able to speak to anyone else other than himself and the dogs, and taking care of Elias had been... hard.

After their accident, after they'd fallen into the water, had lost dogs and supplies and more, Clint had been able to take care of Elias as much as he could, moving Southward. They'd just reached Cape Morris Jessup. They had just reached it and changed the Danish flag for a newer one, Clint telling Elias to bring the one that had been torn to shreds by the wind home to his wife and kid.

And it had all gone to hell the moment the ice broke and Elias went through, with the dogs.

At least, in here, Clint thinks, it's safe. It's not cold, like outside, because it's not windy. The dogs are sitting where they can, as he pulled them inside by the collar, one by one. He'd guided them through the steps, into the flight deck.

It had been a miracle, really. Only because he had stumbled upon a piece of fuselage in his sleep deprived state, as he had tried to gather strength to bring Elias home, to the closest hunters cabin to help him warm up in time, but it was too far. It was too far. So, instead, as the dogs had started investigating the fuselage, Clint had recognized pictures from the intel he'd gathered. The Valkyrie was an enormous plane, and when the dogs started digging around in different areas, Clint felt it in his gut.

They'd found the Valkyrie right after Elias had passed from this world onto the next.

And he had no idea how to feel about it.

The lead dog, Puk, a mean bitch who kept the others in line, is lying next to Clint. She's been turned in such a way that she always has her eyes on the human silhouette that's sitting behind the control panel, frozen in time. Literally. Clint had crawled into the Valkyrie, dragging Elias's body with him to shield him from the heavy snowfall outside, and the dogs had followed. They were hungry, though, and it was no fun trying to keep almost ten dogs from trying to tear Captain America to shreds as soon as they had caught scent of him.

Elias had made Clint promise to put his family first. No matter what. He'd made him promise that he would never do anything that would put him at risk of not coming home again, and Clint had promised. No matter what happens, he'd said. I'll always come back home to my wife and my kids, just like you should, Elias.

It hadn't lasted long, and it hadn't been violent at all. Elias had just closed his eyes, and Clint almost saw his last breath leave his body, as the cold, snow and ice grabbed onto Clint and dragged him through one hell of an emotional turmoil.

They're sitting in the control panel, now, though. Two of the other dogs, Luffe and Bjaffe, are guarding Elias' body from the other dogs. Clint has radioed the position home, tuning into the one frequency he knows SHIELD can find, regardless of where on this round Earth he is, and he's hoping. Counting the days before he hears a familiar jet sound above, and before he gets to feel warmth again. There's nothing to burn in here – he's done a walk around of the Valkyrie, but except some unexploded bombs, a wristwatch with Peggy Carter's picture, and Steven Grant Rogers' body, there is nothing in here.

Four more days go by before anything happens. The dogs grow restless, and Clint starts to ration the food he has between him and them. A dog fight ensues after one of the younger pups steals the food from under Puk's nose, and Clint has to stitch a leg back together before the injured dog bleeds out. It's thanks to the dogs that he even knows someone is outside the Valkyrie, because they all jump up from their sitting or lying positions and rummage through to the cold outside, and when more howling and barking meets them, Clint makes it outside as well.

He's so sleep deprived that he barely registers he hasn't put on his arctic clothing again, and when a seal- and polar bear-skin clad Inuit guides him back inside, he barely notices that he's shaking and crying.

Saamualik, the boy says his name is. Clint replies that he's been here four days. That his partner's dead. He's not even sure which language he's saying it in – Greenlandic, or English, or Danish, or something else entirely. When two other men get inside and put their hands on his shoulder, Clint falls to his knees and points over to Elias' body, that he's tried to cover with clothing.

The three newcomers tell him things will be alright, and that SHIELD will be here soon. His mission is over soon. He did his job. Nick Fury is proud. He gets to go home, now. They’ll send someone from Washington to assess the damage and bring the Captain home. Clint insists that he doesn’t want to leave.

He wants to stay. He needs to stay. He needs to make sure that Elias gets to go home. He needs to tell his wife.

He needs to.

He has to.

He promised.

* * *

**Today,**

**Waverly, Iowa, United States of America.**

 

It's been such a long time since he's sat down and tried to help Lila with her homework. He had fumbled around for a couple of seconds, looking for his glasses, as he sat down next to her at the table, wanting to help her out with her maths problems. She'd asked him, when he'd made it home that morning, if he could help her with it. It would mean a lot, she'd said. And Clint had agreed.

She smiles when he frowns, putting his pencil down at her answer on question 7B. When she giggles, Clint frowns even more, and turns his gaze from the workbook to his daughter's face. ”What?”

She giggles once more, before biting her lip. ”You look like grumpy cat,” she says, and Clint feigns shock. He's heard it before, but never from his daughter.

”Like who?”

”You know, the grumpy cat. He was on television the other night.”

Clint grunts, and rolls his eyes, to which Lila laughs again. He turns the page on the homework and frowns, whispering the words on the page to himself. He notices Lila looking at him, though, and he stops doing before asking her. “What?”

“Mom says you don’t like reading,” she says, quietly, as she pulls a strand of lose hair from behind her ear forward and starts twirling it. She looks thoughtful as she does, and Clint pushes his glasses back up his nose and sits back into his chair, as he puts his hand on her homework, thumb drumming the paper as he thinks about how to answer the question.

He purses his lips, thoughtful. “It’s not that I don’t like reading - I love books, I love the stories they have. I just… Letters are sometimes hard for me to see? Sometimes it’s like they move around on their own, and I can’t make sense of what is written down on the page,” he explains, as Lila’s eyes focus on his face, then on the page she’s been working on. It’s simple maths, so that’s not where the problem lies for Clint. He just has to read the assignments first, and that takes a while, sometimes.

“So,” Lila says, straightening her back and pushing his hand away from the homework so she can look at the text herself, “Does that mean you have the same thing as Peter?”

“Peter from school?”

She nods. “Yeah, he says the letters dance on the paper and the teacher said that he might have something called-” she frowns as she tries to remember the word, “disk- diskleksia- diskl-”

“Oh, dyslexia?”

“Yeah, that!”

She smiles at him and Clint looks at her face and he feels something flutter in his chest. Because he remembers having this conversation with Phil Coulson, many, many years ago, when he first started out at SHIELD. And he’d kept insisting that it had been because he just never finished high school properly, and it was because he just didn’t like reading. He smiles back at her after a couple of seconds, though.

“Uncle Phil thought that I did,” he says, as he moves forward again to look over at the math problem in front of him again. “He said I should take a test for it, but I never did.”

Lila laughs. “You don’t like tests,” she says, matter-of-factly, and he huffs, amused. “Mom says you don’t like them, because you don’t need them and you’re the best at what you do.”

He laughs genuinely, then, before Lila turns around and puts her hand on his thigh, leaning over to him to give him a hug.

“It’s nice to have you back, dad,” she says, as she rubs her face against his knit sweater, and looks up at him from what he thinks is a very uncomfortable position, but doesn’t seem to bother her.

He moves his arm around her without letting her fall down and pulls the chair towards himself, in order to hug her properly. Kissing her hair, he holds her tight for a couple of seconds, before resting his cheek on her hair. “It’s nice to be home too,” he says, very quietly as he listens to her breathing against his chest and tries to focus on the smell of her hair. She’s still using that over-scented children’s shampoo Laura got her because it had Anna and Elsa on it.

“Are you going to go back to work with Captain America?” she asks from her cradled position against his chest, and he sighs, letting go of her and pushing stray strands of hair away from her face.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. I promised mom I’d stay home, and if I’m honest? I don’t really want to go back.” He pauses there, as he reflects on what he just said, and manages to make peace with it relatively quickly. “Kind of like how you don’t want to go back to school after a the weekend.”

She smiles up at him, wide and he can’t help but put a kiss on her forehead as he pulls the homework closer to him so they can finish it before he has to go out and prepare dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.  
> Did you like Grumpy!Cat Clint? Because I enjoyed writing him that way. I hope you guys liked the chapter.   
> Please, please, please let me know how you liked it <33
> 
> Further readings:   
> \- None.


	12. Post Credits Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual (or, at least, I'm trying to), a first post-credits scene for you guys.   
> Just to keep the tension going <33

**A couple of weeks later, Roskilde, Denmark.**

 

_Elias Mark Søndergaard Hansen._

It’s one of the longer names Clint has ever had to read, and he hates that he has to read it on a marble stone.

He hates that he can’t just introduce Elias to the man standing by his side right now, and that it had to happen this way.

Steve insisted on coming over, on making his way here, so he could express gratitude. Or something like that, anyway. Clint had agreed that he’d take a couple of days off from being at the farm and accompany Steve. Laura and the kids had made the trip too, and they were off in the city, visiting the Viking Ship Museum in town, while Steve and Clint had climbed through the little pedestrian streets, past the Cathedral, past the stony paths and walked under the Christmas lights adorning the streets, and up to the cemetery.

They hadn’t talked much about why they were going there as they went, mostly about how fast it got dark and how cold it was, but it was nowhere near as cold as it had been at the Thule Air Base. It was darker here, though. Much darker.

Clint had called Elias’ wife, Cæcile, too, but had been greeted by his oldest kid instead. She’d had a bit of trouble with English, and so Clint had shifted to Danish instead. Unfortunately, Elias’ family were going to Jutland for the week, and wouldn’t be home. Clint suspects that Cæcilie used it as an excuse to not see him. Or see Steve.

He wouldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t want to see him either. Especially not after New York, or Sokovia. European media outlets had been very aggressive about the whole mess in Sokovia, Johannesburg and Seoul.

They stand there, quietly, as Clint thinks back to everything that happened since he left to look for Captain America, as he thinks back to the Avengers, to Loki, to Wanda, to Sokovia. His hand goes to his chest, and he smiles.

They join Laura and the kids at the museum after standing there for an hour or so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, did you like this little chapter? <3


	13. Post Credits Scene 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it, guys. Hope you guys enjoy <3

**Three days later.**

**Waverly, Iowa, United States of America.**

 

It’s been months since he woke drenched in sweat, barely containing the screaming and the shaking.

Staring into his reflection’s eyes, he notices the dark creases under his eyes and flicks a handful of cold water back onto his face. Laura had woken too, prodding at his back until his eyes flicked open and pulled him out of the nightmare. It had been terrifying.

The water drips down his face, and back down into the sink, and Clint struggles to steady his breathing as he thinks back to what he saw. He doesn’t remember much, except a terrifying presence and immense powers. It didn’t feel like a dream, it felt… It felt like reality being altered, like something had changed.

His wet hands go to his chest as his eyes flicker down to the burn mark between his pectorals, and he feels his heart stop. The scar that has been plaguing him ever since he came back from New York, ever since he came back from killing aliens in the middle of the city, ever since he came back from seeing an intergalactic wormhole rip through the skies seems to have spread.

His fingers touch the edges of the scar and he almost flinches when the soft skin suddenly feels sensitive, as if he’s been burnt there.

His eyes fly back up to the mirror and to the door he can see through it, where Laura is standing, quietly. He can read her face. He can see what she thinks, and he wants to tell her that he will never go back. That he’ll stay here, and remain a father and a husband.

But the monster he saw in his dream - huge, and dark, and all devouring - must have been real. Something monstrous, from a Dark dimension that he wouldn’t be able to explain, trapped within a plane of existence he can’t grasp or understand…

No, Clint knows. Another stone has awakened, and it has brought a beacon onto Earth like never before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.
> 
> One last shot in the dark of pure, unrequited angst. Because I love me some angst, right?  
> (Yes, that was Dormammu that Clint saw in his nightmare).
> 
> Please, please, please, please let me know how you liked this <33
> 
> I enjoyed writing it, and I have been so excited to do all this research for the fic and I really hope that on top of being a good story (I hope it was!) you guys learnt a little bit more about Greenland and the geo-political meaning the island has on a worldwide scale, among other things.
> 
> (Oh, and also, I hope you got some Clint and Steve feelings).


End file.
